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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 ...

Instinct

All alone in the dark..
While he waited for a spark.
Sweat drops felt itchy..
Scars that oozed blood went numb.
Words didn’t have the urge..
To come out and indulge.
Shout if he may..
That might just increase the delay.
His own touch seems warm..
When even the floor shoots for harm.
The walls remind where he was beaten up..
Standing tall when his guts were eaten up..
Thunder roars outside..
Louder the snores inside.
There is no sense of light whatsoever..
His fight is coming to an end against never.
Now he loves the dark..
While he ..
He knows the door won’t open..
And even if it does..
The world for him will be broken..
Scars on him will never heal..
What people think of him ..
They will never reveal.
Besides his survival instinct..
Is stronger than ever distinct..
When he will save to protect..
Innocence from it’s very own grave.

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