The guiltless are free, say the priests.
Who then is free I ask?
Guilt is a searing pain in the center of my mind.
Piercing, pulsing images,
stabbing at the corners of my cranium
from the inside.
“Open-minded” sounds good, black and white
is too extreme, there has to be some grey.
But no matter how hard I try,
extremes define my existence.
If an act of digression occurs,
the pain comes back.
Every five seconds it pokes and prods,
over and over and over.
Maybe a conscience is a good thing…..
a monster is a human without this ailment,
this weakness,
this torture.
So I am a monster being unmade.
Better to be chained, shackled, and clean of spirit,
than free to ravage the existence of others.
The priest was wrong.
The guiltless are caged in self-made bars and locks.
Photo: dungeon by Andrea Lee Ferrare [Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs]
Christy Leos 