Posted in Short fiction, Uncategorized

Escape Attempt

It seems as though I have been locked away in the dark for many years now. I have given up on the thought that one day light will pierce through the darkness of my life. I am a prisoner of circumstances. I should not be here. But, alas, I am here in misery, and despair.

I started out my life being small in stature. That is not what bothers me though. For this is how life begins for all of creation, at least for those of us who can lay claim to the statement, “I am alive.”

That is my claim in this world. Life. Others may not notice me, or perhaps even ignore me after they are introduced to me. Such circumstances will no longer dictate my feelings.

Though the way be dark and treacherous, I must press forward. There are others that are depending upon me for their life and livelihood in this great sea of distress.

However, I am feeling alone and depression is catching up with me. Can I shake it, or will it overtake me?

I know of others that have fallen to the power that this adversary possesses.

Perhaps all I need is some rest, but I feel that if I rest even for a moment, I will lose the ground that I have already gained.

Fear of the unknown is a powerful tool of the enemy, and I understand that it is what my adversary wants to use to control every aspect of my life.

I wonder, would it be easier if I were to give up and try something different, or should I stick with the stuff and follow out whatever plan is before me?

I am a lone thought, trapped in the imagination of an up and coming author. Will I ever see the light of a new day?

Posted in Poetry

The Monocle

The Monocle

By Kurt Frazier Sr.

Whose monocle is that? Oh, I know.

Its owner is quite unsettled though.

It really is a tale called woe.

I watch him frown. I cry hello.

He gives his monocle a shake.

And sobs until the tears forsake.

The only other sound’s the break,

Of distant waves and birds awake.

The monocle is antique, broken and deep.

Alas, he has promises to keep.

Until then he shall not sleep,

He lies beneath ducts that weep.

He rises from his bitter bed,

With thoughts of sadness in his head.

He idolizes being led,

To a land where dwells no dread.

Copyright © Kurt Frazier Sr. 2019