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Jun 2020
4/5
he is lying on the grandest marble floor,
in between two pillars as he cries out.
Yet none hear him, the door is locked.
He looks for a way, he was told about
by his older brother years ago, do
you want to know how he found it at all?
He stood, his hands were stuck like glue.
He cried out, tried to show the world his call.
His voice like a used marker,
his nose could not smell, he couldn't taste.
His bright thoughts and mind sadly grew darker.
His bones growing weaker, a waste.
And not one reached down to pluck him
up, none extended their arm to him.
Written by
Patrick Harrison  18/M/Chicago
(18/M/Chicago)   
62
 
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