B- (you worry me)

September 22, 2009
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The scent of linoleum, anesthetises, and meds.
These evil, white-cloaked menaces pace by,
These horrible, vertical, white surfaces closing in on me
The identical setup of every prison cell.
The holes in the walls remind you of your captivity.

I see you-
Your glow- - stolen
Your gaze- - lost
Your face- - pallid

Plastic veins course through you-
You belong to the night-

a clock strikes in the distance
a shadow passes by
the stationary robots scream your name-

Your forced heartbeat- - stolen
Your last breath- - lost
My face- - pallid

You belong to me no more-
the Angel of Death has torn you from my grasp
he has taken your life-
and too has taken mine-

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