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Scratches on Stone
730 Scratches on Stone -
the blur I see on the wall
as water burns through
my lungs.
Tomorrow I will mark 731
and more blood spatters will
decorate the dusty floor.
Happy New Year
to me.
They promise I am free if I tell them.
Sure,
from the pain at least.
So what is stopping me?
The will to live?
Does my cynical outlook on life
mask a fear of death?
Is the hesitation
from the knowledge that the secrets I’d surrender
would destroy many more lives than just my own?
A rasping cough rips through me
as I sputter up dirty water,
breaking me from my musings.
As time passes
it gets harder to tear me away from the haze
my clouded mind provides as sanctuary.
Eventually I cannot tell reality
from a dream.
1095 Scratches on Stone
is what I leave behind
as I drift away
to the sound of gunshots
and far away voices.

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