January 6, 2012
By JordanC SILVER, Newmarket, Other
JordanC SILVER, Newmarket, Other
5 articles 0 photos 0 comments

I lay like a corpse in a tomb of cold concrete,
my chest an empty socket.
Every word in my head realizes this defeat,
every will in my body tries to stop it.

Moving from place to place,
never really moving anywhere.
Stopping at every mirror to view my own face,
hating the answers, not strong enough not to care.

A desperate wish to be rescued,
by someone whose components are unnatural.
Yet a refusal to be reviewed,
this understanding of my own fraud was gradual.

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