When He Lies Down
Rotting thoughts,
Decaying with a vile stench-
In the corners of his cranium,
He sees,
It means null to win,
On the contrary sir,
You must re-enter society some day,
Wills thrown aside,
He masks himself from all that is rational,
He must ration the air in his lungs,
It quells the blood seeping from every orifice,
When he lies down.
Copyright © Melissa Ross | Year Posted 2010
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