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The Morgue

My wrists are lined with wire,

I haven't slept for days.

My feet cemented to the ground,

I can't go another way.

 

There are petals in my rib cage,

a bird has flown for days.

There's vines laced on my finger tips,

I'm trapped and bound in rain.

 

Sirens sing and sting my ears,

I'll never be the same.

Secret scrolls and messages,

taint and change my brain.

 

My skin is chrystalizing,

my heart has turned to stone.

There can't be something left of me,

in my hardened silver throne.

 

They'll leave me here to fade away,

until my name is but a fragment,

and my eyes roll over grey.

 

An ode of me to society

a sacrifice they'll have to see.

They'll shrine my name, but

forget everything I'd ever be.

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Written by
alyssa-rose-n
American
Published
Apr 7, 2013
Lines·Words
23·132
Permission

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