Chose Bones

November 7, 2017

The cold, ugly beige room
Makes my bones shiver,
My teeth chatter,
And my lip quiver.

The energy in the room unsettling
People left and right very sinister,
We were the real-life Walking Dead
This was the jail and I was the prisoner.

Cheeks caved in,
Ribs poking out,
Limbs like toothpicks.
I did this to myself, no doubt.

Doctors poking and proding me,
Putting a plastic tube up my nose,
Filling my stomach with food

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