Warden

 I was my own warden in this obliette of never seen befores; 

glee after you farewell to your sanity and redeem the code.

Forgetting the past, for a future I couldn't agree more to ashore 

in the perhapses of relapsed judgment calls, I had to appall my 

sanctifies salutations, for the transfusioned intrusions Problem resolve. 

I abjured you, to be my shackles and bolts, to smite the smithereens 

and gossamers reflections on the darklit mirrors face. As the hair grew short, 

by a hanging thread, the sound was cut by a sonorous vow, I dismayed to ask. 

The bark of a treefolk in the woodlands of the yore, spined a confinement field; 

how many mockingbirds does it take, to change the writing on the wall...?