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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 ...

Cure

A cure..
For not..
Being.
A cure..
For not..
Saying.
A cure..
For the departed.
A cure..
For why this started.
A cure..
For eyes misread.
A cure..
For cries mislead.
A cure..
For what we call.
Everything beyond..
Destiny akin.
A cure ..
For why we stall..
Everything beyond..
Irony a trapezoid..
To avoid..
Falsehood.
A cure..
For prey..
To devour the stray.
A cure..
For truth..
To stay hidden..
In a broken tray.
A cure..
For love.
That happens.
A cure..
For memory..
That dampens.
For age..
Defines truimphant.
Or misery..
A cure..
For an obsolete..
Measure..
Of happiness.
A cure..
For abysmal ignorance.
A cure..
For deafening..
Ground wrecking..
Connundrum.
A cure..
For humanity..
To embrace..
Momentum.

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