My Poetry. Blinkered.

Looking through blinkered eyes,
you see nothing around.
Nothing satisfies you;
nothing new is found.
All you perceive is blackness—
a vision pre-designed,
forced to see only ugly things
that never seem to fade.

No one can set you free,
and they wouldn't anyway;
they are all too busy in their world,
selfishly having their way.

Like a nightmare never-ending,
you are a prisoner in your own demise,
never seeing the clear light of day,
wishing only for blue skies.

You are being held captive—
a lock without a key;
you are in a place you don't want to be,
knowing you can never be free.

The only person that can truly free you
is yourself, if you have the will.
You must do it on your own;
this self-made poison you must spill.

© William Sinclair Manson 2025