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Prisoner
Don’t think too hard.
They sting behind your eyes.
Sharp swells
from the recessing snake pit.
Faces warp, wrap, and real.
Knotted limbs
of trying tapestry.
The marriage of scale and skin.
Remember to forget.
My soul was not to keep.
A window woe.
Through eyes not mine, I see.
Take from me
what was yours already.
Prisoner.
Copyright ©
Jordan Smith
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