Author Information
behind bars
Folder:
2003 The little boy with sad eyes
Looks out windows with latches
Freedom is only a state of mind
The borders of sanity are bleached white with pain
To the tips of the needle that come
crashing down upon his fragile body
From the walls that suffocate with disease and death
He is not lost, but rather complexed
In this bitterness of twisted disgust
Foam rises from the heavens and penetrates
shock treatments into his frail existence
For its entrance is tarred with swampy punctures
Fissures that burn unmendable tangents
into the core of existence
The doors are all broken now, and the
replications have all ran out of neurotransmitters
Gunshells dream of earlier days of touchless virginity
♡♥♡ May you always have the
♡♥♡
May you always have the courage to face life green, clean, and serene. You are loved. Keep writing.
...
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "
Strong and moving. You have
Strong and moving. You have much promise as an author.