Unshackle My Verse
--A sentence to die for--
The air slices sharply
through a frigid migraine
with the putrid smell of bleach.
Shivering awake
with a ghastly chill
a soundless room stretches;
without even the chattering of teeth.
Wires twine with metal in bone
scraping intensity into pain
with every shudder of a whisper.
“Hello Clarice” - I can only think
with a distant giggle
and fond memory.
The ambience
of the fluorescence
shoots through my eyes
as they barely open
and for the first time ever,
experience shrapnel.
A sterile and dedicated place I am in.
The walls run deep with
blank canvas all around.
There is only room to write.
With no tongue or hand
or eye or pen they think
I am without?!
Feeding off the oppressed faculties
of every untold blush -
the words will never stop.
My mind is already caged…
and with beautiful potential.
I do not choose to die
nor do I envy this life
but I will direct my mannerisms
toward each day’s moral compass.
A survival code for every breath left;
however long this be my home.
The art of execution
remains both of ours to deliver.
This I know in my blood as
it is written on the walls-
"Well, Clarice -
have the lambs stopped screaming?"
--4/13/2017--
Unshackle my verse contest
"What if poetry was illegal?"
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