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A Prison Filled With Smoke

 I drew with a pencil that broke in the middle I drew with the shorter half that choked on the riddle I knew it was going to be harder to hide my fiddle I drew on top of a scar that had been ripped open too far I drew the stitches to cover the leakage in rage I made the lead to break I drew dark glasses to hide my eyes from lies that cover my face I drew empty classes where I teach freedom I knew no one would come and take the risk that it encompasses I drew the bucket  that has holes everywhere I drew the station that never sees a train only the pain of everything passing right through the empty tracks I drew a relation that is always in tension what should I say how should I pay what should I do not to stay I drew a blanket to cover my soul I drew a bullet to destroy the ghoul I knew someone will call me out I knew someone will shout I drew a chair where I can sit and think about being fair I drew a floor filled with gravity of good time smoke gathered around me suddenly, I ...

Can I

Can I quit ..
Or Can I run.
Can I conflict..
Just for fun.
Done taking the short cuts..
Even long routes don’t bother.
It’s the crowd that smothers.
Don’t want to keep lying..
As truth is undesirable.
Don’t want to try..
Not anymore.
Let’s just make it worth the sigh some more.
For Fate is imaginary..
People are tertiary.
Thoughts make them scary..
What awaits you is death..
That’s the light on the other side of the tunnel.
What’s important is touch..
What needs to be read are the eyes.
Don’t trust words..
They are just fillers.
Making up for the emptiness..
Worse is the hands..
That hold to leave whenever.
Cause you are meant to realize..
This life is forever.

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