Syndrome

Yorke

 

Trapped and static,

particles infiltrate my breath.

I am compressed,

I am held,

this cell,

this hell.

 

Hate,

rejection,

approval,

my captors.

 

I immerse myself in white noise,

I reside in sorrow,

in my despair,

in chains,

in tears,

my cellular embrace.


  • Author: Yorke (Offline Offline)
  • Published: November 18th, 2016 16:58
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 18
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Comments +

Comments2

  • Tony36

    Awesome write

    • Yorke

      Thank you for your kind reply

    • Christina8

      You did a great job on this sad but powerful piece. Thanks for sharing!

      • Yorke

        Thank you for your kind words



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