Looking Back

Quick glances to scan for the lips chains
those vile seducers of subtle shackles,
a sigh, a shudder and quiver,
but can’t get liberty from the past
even while standing beyond the jail.

I walk alone outside the snare
each step a mix of regret, nightmare and relief,
freedom feels good like a cold blast of beer,
only the hangover comes in the morning
when looking in the mirror and seeing the scars.