Wards of the State
In the wards of the state
Custody is gruesome
We breathe and speak our constraints
Looming from hallway rumors
I am the hawk in the clock
Shaking hands with fate
Existing in between discretion
Charged with numbers
Time is the shock of stillness
We foam with desire
And wrench our poison pens
They train us like fire dogs
A hazard to be expunged
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