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An Excerpt from My Lovers Prison

Writer: Shannon Lee PerryShannon Lee Perry

O My Lovers Prison



What thoughts have you had on the origin of homelessness? Maybe the most kind, honest, selfless individual, passivity, plays integral roles in the individuals.


Did you stop to think before you judged her that being selfless was something ingrained inside her soul, something that no one walking the earth had come in contact with for some time, and that it was sacred and preserved? She was not of this timeline, an ancient wisdom. If this gift was shown to you, but you possessed not, the kind of soul matching fire that kept her in Reserve. The wrong ones discarded her, put her to the test. They tied her, beat her, but she just would not give in. Or so, they never thought, that some things are IMBUED. Unwilling to accep, that how deep this virtue runs, be a power, no one else kept. Rushing life, manifesting many times over, death, but not dying. In this power is where her strength lie. It wasn’t obtainable, it kept them at unrest, so further grew the torture she kept inside her head.


”They want me to change, to what suits them best.”


She knew, her power would serve them too, but only made for one hand to hold. From childhood on, far reaching over the idea that a duty existed, but knitted in her DNA this trait could not be altered to suit the wrong kind, no matter how selfishly they intended to use her as an object for personal gain.


”You do not deserve, you are not a servant unto the soul!”


It was in selflessness we found the most selfish individual. Exposing themselves one by one. She was left to nothingness, and nothingness never comes.


People came, they always leave. From a far, they sent intermittently problems, with crystal water vision the intents at the bottom of a still lake, she sit.

They never sent love, only complication. Taking everything and we’re left to themselves, half empt, with stewing cruelty like a cage around the mind and heart trying to make logic out of their dismember-mental ego. Souls forever ruined, cursed, by their choices. Abusing power, merit desires. It did not bring them their desires, only chaos and strategy. Unobtainable ideology. Manifestations Of misery.


”Who am I fooling, fools?”


Most did not have heart, “COWARDS”, she would scream!


That at is why they kept torturing her. She was their heart and soul, a pure elemental. Not to be confused with the self right. What does it say about the possessor for to discard his own heart and soul, carelessly degrading hisself. Assuming the power to keeping her in the dark. Maybe she could feel, but naive she was not.


”How will I ever bring myself out of this darkness. I am weakened, and tired, from how someone treated you, to try and make something of myself. You have maintained your strength, by taking all of mine.”


“Maybe someone treated you this way, because you are not selfless. Maybe selfishness is ingrained in you. It’s the only thing you know how to do.“


”I could always tell it was your energy in most circumstances you sent to me. The nature of your beast not to cease until death, and as an immortal Oracle I must warn you , you can not hide your beast. I am protected, you’re exposed. It is now between the heaven and the hells that own you, you no longer need me to see yourself.”


She was not just an Oracle Of Immortality, she was a goddess of sound and transmissions. The key communicator of the Gods. Mapping out character in humans, Oracle grew intolerant. When she closed her eyes, the angel of intention.


“He grabs her in her dimension,

By wrist pulling her closer,

I know you feel my intentions,

That is why I need you so,

Passively falling into the desperation,

Realizing the Aether between souls is cause of suffering.”


He needs something, so she chimes,


”I can see the little boy is not the man,

They have grown severed, and you reaching out to me like this could never be conditional, my love. My power not possessed, something you may have struggled with in past life, as do most. You have my heart in your hands, however, do not let it go. When I meet you in this place, I admit to fear. I am also intrigued by your desire to connect, so I stay.”


”He grabs her, holds her so generously, and she knew all he had to give we’re the demons, and the pain was a gift.

He loved her.

She had been exposed to pain for so long she could not feel it.”


Irony Of a pure love.


”Buckling into a slump, posture no longer erect in confidence to his longing for supporting nature retrieve, he disappears again.”


”Until our souls are to be together again“


It was always in those brief moments of intimacy, so far apart, so far away, she found comfort allowed to participate. This led to her loneliness, and in the spare time like all light origin ancient souls, she found herself in a playground of wonder, dancing in-between the sorrow and soul purging anguish. Intention.


There was something so pure about the connection. Most do not encounter the dynamic between the souls of individuals, but in this private dimension, every time becoming a more and more sacred ritual of the only love they knew how to give. At least she knew it was his love.


Homelessness now seemed to be a place , state of mind of abandoned love, love lost, accumulations of consistent uncontested grief. Please, see this and don’t stay here in this place of fear. Find strength again to give. How far you have fallen. Unable to lift the weights. You were NEVER the selfish, but have taken on so much of that energy. It was time to purge selfish once and for all who had been possessed. It was as if instead of a purge, the selfish were looking for their cup to be filled again. You do not serve selfishness, therefore the purge with be indomitable. Keep yourself, your light amongst the grief.


I didn’t want to know, power kept using for selfishness, destroying things. Hardly able to hold back her tears,


she cries,


“Whose energy is this now? Where are you, show yourself as do the demons often present their disgrace upon thee. Do you dare sweep in and taketh?”


Painful, as if a hole of discrepancy was being bore deep into integrity, with no escape plan.


”Why leave me to myself if you’re constantly here?”


My lovers prison, keep me here no more.


Ritualistic Chiming


O My Lovers Prison

I walk with you,

On adjacent post transgression,

You spoke in tongues of only,

Our deepest darkest confessions,

I just could not stand,

The thought of my lovers prison,

To with each distant melody,

Two speak about,

So willingly,

Every stone thrown,

The hell within our divinity,

Soak your ego in lavender elixir,

Color soaked dreams of us,

Don‘t go so far away this time,

Stay,

Before the cold conquer rust,

Early in the break of day,

Release a pleasant sigh,

Know that alone,

I would, without, die

The sun shown shadows,

our first committed flight,

Those ever so hesitant,

deep soulful moans,

grace the ear in the night,

I‘ll . . . Never regret,

Solemn smell of loneliness,

Dry grass tall cracks dust o lavender fields,

lay thy head upon thy chest,

O’er the rythym our heart beat,

As we hold hands until death,

O My

Lovers Prison

Resident Of my soul Forevermore


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