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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 ...

It's Like

It’s like..
That never happened..
Yet soul dampened..
When the eyes get closed.
It’s like..
The wait is endless..
But the end was already..
When alone dozed.
It’s like..
Recapturing moments..
Yet nothing is visible..
When all of it is long gone.
It’s like..
The quick and sudden.
Where thoughts are in pause..
When everytime there’s a wrong impulse.
It’s like..
That shouldn’t be repeated.
Yet again and again..
When against that it works.
Loosing the fireworks.
Until the sun interrupts..
The choking abrupt.

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