My 100th Post

My 100th post has arrived! And we shall celebrate with another poem. Untitled, albeit. I didn't feel right assigning a label to this one.

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The dust is wet with tears.
And still they run.
Your eyes are red with regret.
They look strange against the brown
I am used to seeing there.

Lashing out at those who cared.
Accepting forgiveness only to strike again.
Wondering why they abandoned you.
Destroyed by the betrayal of your friend.

I watch you coil once again.
Laughter and sobbing boil in my throat, locked in eternal warfare.
Lunging, caught unprepared at the shortcoming.
The scabs on your knees and elbows
split open like blooming flowers.

Blood, dirt, and water race by my feet.
They mix and remind me of lava,
the fire carving down the weeping mountain.

Your shackles rattle and slide.
Your wrists are raw with cuts and scars.
The key sits next to you.
You choose to ignore it.

The jury announced their verdict
to allow you return to your thriving life.
But the judge overruled them,
sentencing you to four years of loneliness,
an isolation broken only by my prescense.


Anger at the judge's cruelty fills me,
and I resolve to release you.
But then I remember.
You are the judge.