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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 ...

Weak

Tears pushing through..
But taken in.
Senses not making through..
But blended in.
Vision getting oblique..
You think you can’t do as you seek.
Breathless..
Staring restless.
Startled by the dungeon getting darker..
Pouring all night long..
Staying awake by the dripping drops.
This shouldn’t have happened..
Instead that should have happened.
Voice dampens..
Moist feets tremble.
Walking staggered..
Dragging yourself all scattered.
A sudden catch of a glimpse..
Running closer on a whim.
There’s someone you can hold on to…
There’s someone who has come for you..
Wait … that’s just you…
Looking right back at you..

Getting weak.

Standing right there meek.

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