To the Ones Who Truly See
A prisoners cell
Nothing to keep
My mind occupied
My breath gets caught in my throat
My eyes glazed
Seeing false images, hallucination
Death
That's all i see
It's cold fingers
Dragging long, sharp claws
Down my back
Paralyzing me
A web is strewn before me
Morning dew caught in
Droplets on the fine silk
Sparkling in silver moonlight
A natural spotlight
From which i stand
Within darkness
Within light
But fitting no where perfectly
Belonging to no set puzzle
Copyright © Brittany Gentry | Year Posted 2010
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