All Poems by Frank D.

The Captive

It was difficult for him to call himself a prisoner.

His face and hands were clean,

The suit he wore, the finest men could buy.

His demeanor spoke success.

But he was chained

In hidden darkness none could see;

Because his diamonds sparkle light.

His plastic smile convince them,

“I’m all right.”

He, an up-and-outer,

Despised the down-and-outers;

Because they were more honest

And did not hide their need.

His mother taught him

“You’ll never be like them.

You're from the right side of the track,

There are no prisoners here.”

And so he languished for two score years,

Until a man with insight pointed to the door

That led to denial’s cell;

Where he, at last, could see himself

Bound with his golden chains.