Bedlams rest within
these indigo walls;
the new age of senses
like bloodhounds, we scratch
and sniff the streets
for freedom;ambitious
we reach; we attempt
to clasp this distinguished
portrait as an escape route,
but we are met with misfortune
a ghost has traveled these woods
he has; his presence can be tasted
lurking within the breeze
the new age of senses unfolds
an awakening to behold



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