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In the Family of Opression

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These bars freeze
The skin covering my bones,
Brittle,
From your cutting wind.

The cold steel,
Pliable in your hands,
Chokes my breath,
With the fear of Death.

Death,
Oppression’s mother,
Looms at my cell,
Ready to strike in the night.

The chill,
Follows the call of broken limbs,
Awakening the sprits
Of a woman’s past.

These woods are painted white,
On a canvas chalked with a blank.
Here the spotted doe
Is helpless against her restraints.



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BoosflashThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Jul. 21, 2011 at 3:47 pm:
very good captain. i am loving the last stanza, the second to last stanza, and...all the other stuff.
 
despurlock This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Jul. 21, 2011 at 8:06 pm :
Thank you so much!! :)
 
BoosflashThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Jul. 21, 2011 at 11:41 pm :
uh huh, uh huh. sure captain.
 
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