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Fields:  Poetry, Writing
The Prison

That window is my only true freedom
With varied lines and shadows, dawn to dusk
The unexpected keeps the mind surprised
In a body that only lies, lies, lies.

Though my limpness plagues my arms
A peek beyond, at these scathing stars
Redeems my sullen fright of night
Gives me the urge to fight, fight, fight.

Sleep avoids my desperate soul
All these yells and smells of rampant mold
And unseen sights keep me awake
Which leads me to fear my fate, fate, fate.

My keenest sense amplifies the roars
Such a clamor of cries, gurneys, and doors
I dream of bridal bells and household chores
And though this helps, I yearn more, more, more.

Tomorrow will be too familiar
Only the window's wind will keep me alive
Not days, but moments make me thrive
If I only age in moments, let me die, die, die.

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Comments

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Ángel Valenzuela
Though I'm rather keen to prose, I admit that some poets do get my attention. Your words are bold. Kudos.
Mikhail Jack
Mikhail Jack, 02-29-08
I feel the passion- deaf, blind, immoblie, still you yearn knowing of the inevitable
Ran Valerhon
Ran Valerhon, 10-11-07
Wow.
 
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