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Jan 2019
Her mournful eyes fixed
on some distant invisible point

In all her life
she rarely opened her arms to anyone
rarely returned affection
her heart an icy chamber
stoic, closed

Half the time she was penned up in isolation
trapped in an asylum
a life cruelly altered by thorazine
and shock treatments
her soundtrack a choir of madwomen
their voices running riot
in a snake pit
Written by
Vernon Waring  72/M/King of Prussia, PA
(72/M/King of Prussia, PA)   
   Thinking Doc
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