White
My deep empty eyes pits
Sink further into my clean skull
As the cracks in the dry ceiling
Smile down at my prone body
I’m in place like a packing peanut
In this soft little box
That pills and taut cotton
have allowed me to accept
This place with drugs
Is warmer than snow, even when it’s cold
It’s draped with uncolored canvas
A blank slate for my mind
To cage me in
To stifle me
To tie down my mind, like my body
To the ninety degree corners
Of a perfectly shaped mind
A perfectly shaped world
A perfectly faked reality
It’s unbearably white.
Copyright © Allison Ballard | Year Posted 2012
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