W.A. MAG

By Unknown, Unknown, Unknown

   Trapped

in a cement

box

with no windows.



A cell,

that shuts me in with its

symmetry.



Bars of perpendicular lines.



Foreign scribbles adorning

a black



void of chalkboard.



Numbers,

Chemical Equivalents,

Sentence Structure,

and Yesterday's Homework

point fingers at me.

mocking,

jeering,

closing me in.



Slapped into submission

by the whim of an elder,

and the ring of a bell.





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