Fear the Basilisk

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Buzzes of a lying tounge's whisper fill my sensitive ears.
They believe that I can not see through their angelic mask
but I hear the beating of their deciteful hearts loud and clear.
The hallway walls enclose around me like a permafrosted, steel cage.
Though to some I appear trapped-
that is their illusion given to me with the sickest of imagery.
Yet I am not illiberal, nor a fool. I shall be set free!
For I am not foolish enough to believe a lying tounge.





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Rose19 said...
Mar. 5, 2010 at 1:04 pm
hey ! I liked ur poem.. It's a feeling that I relate to.
 
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