A Small Collection of Gothic Poetry

Gothic Poem 4

Imprisoned

Slender beams of moonlight enter

this darkened prison as I kneel,

always a slave, always silent,

frozen here,

waiting.

Tortured forms wrought in panes of glass loom as

dust dances in the air,

forming an image in my mind,

sparing not my shamed soul.

Tears on a child's face.

I raise my head, now kneeling before

this oblivious mortality.