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Alice Kay
Poems
Dec 2012
Insane asylum
The blinding lights
form spots when I blink.
They're always with me.
I need to break out from these white-washed walls
and polished floors.
Let me feel grass under my feet,
and the heat of the sun.
See the soft light of the evening
and the slow-rushing waters.
But no...
They will never let me out of this straight jacket.
How did Houdini get out of it?
Written by
Alice Kay
Imagination
(Imagination)
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