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The well runneth dry Words like sludge Are painfully excreted Through thickened and broken skin Gone is the peace from this place All semblance of sanctuary Eradicated by derisive battles Of witless wonders Still, words try to flow The beauty in freedom gone The art in emotion Hindered by fear of judgment Joy erased to distant memory Gone are the days of unbound expression Missed are the times of universal acceptance Words seeking approval are skewed Honesty is painful Truth is rare Their union is all I know And it is a  punishable offense
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Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 4:50 AM UTC
Welcome Insipid Prose
The well runneth dry Words like sludge Are painfully excreted Through thickened and broken skin Gone is the peace from this place All semblance of sanctuary Eradicated by derisive battles Of witless wonders Still, words try to flow The beauty in freedom gone The art in emotion Hindered by fear of judgment Joy erased to distant memory Gone are the days of unbound expression Missed are the times of universal acceptance Words seeking approval are skewed Honesty is painful Truth is rare Their union is all I know And it is a  punishable offense
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prttybrd
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Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 4:50 AM UTC
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