The keeper of men

Vaskanyan, Artem



Book Titled: RUMINATING YEARS Poem: The Keeper Of Men Author: By Artem Vaskanyan I often wonder! How can a man keep another shackled, hand cuffed And locked away inside a cage to suffer For all eternity, but then, Treat a stray dog better than a man he keeps... It is difficult, almost impossible not to feel Any loathe for a Keeper of men; For what he does to another man Is truly the worst of all beasts. He is a servant of the Devil in the earthly realm, A tormentor of the human souls he keeps... To make a living of another man's pain and suffering Is one of the most disgusting acts That any man can find a way to live his life. Not only is it a crime against mankind, But it is the most ditrimental act That the Keeper of men can afflict upon one's own soul. Perhaps if one, would've experienced the same shackled life By the hand of the Keeper of men, Then he would've too developed such loathe for him or her. I say it, because I seen it with my own eyes. I felt it on my own skin, And heard the cries of many tormented men Amongst whose cry was often mine. I was in distraught from internal pain By being treated like I was not even a man, It made me feel like my body was not even mine Like it didn't even belong to me, Only my mind was left to me And its ruminating thoughts that flowed through it. The prayers did not always help And there was no one else to ask for help. I only found comfort in my tears, When the Keeper of men was not in sight To keep his eyes on all the beasts like I. Who was grappling within themselves To fall asleep at night. I cursed the God so many times at night That I started to believe that I was cursed by him Since the first moment I saw light. When hope died within my heart, I wished to start the process of life again; Since death was much easier to embrace Than my shackled life. Which had only one meaning to me at that time, To suffer, suffer to the end. At times the only way for me Was to escape from all of this Was to ruminate relentlessly, Imagining myself to have wings like raven, And take flight into the heart of the sky Where no one could ever cause any pain and suffering to me. No one ever came knocking on my door to offer help. The Keeper of men has always made sure of that As he or she stood in the way Like a Demon with a giant axe, Preventing any benevolent - free man To ever come and offer help. Although, the Keeper would always say, "We do the best we can to help These poor souls to find their way} (And if they have failed then that is because, They are simply Not men, but beasts Who must be kept like wild dogs on a short chain.) I struggled with all the power of my mind To keep myself from going insane. I even lost the passion of seeing The oceans and the forests in my dreams. The mental anguish from being locked away Was one thing in itself, But the neuratic mental games That my mind kept playing on me Was a completely different realm all by itself. Where most of the time, I was not living in Hell, But that the Hell was living in me. And the Keeper of men always made sure of that As he or she stood like a Demon with a giant axe Preventing me from escaping this awful place intact. February 15, 2021

Author: Vaskanyan, Artem

Author Location: Massachusetts

Date: February 15, 2021

Genre: Poetry

Extent: 4 pages

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