I can see myself staring at the black curtained walls
Which hang from the wooden frames of demolished men with simple names
I can feel the grey in their eyes devouring
As their cloaked hands stretch forward like an endless trail
Until
They reach around my throat
Suppressing my wails
I scream and kick but nothing ever happens
It goes on as my skin rubs against my bones in agitation
And I am left with nothing but two breaths and a body full of raging marks
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 8:40 AM UTC
I can see myself staring at the black curtained walls
Which hang from the wooden frames of demolished men with simple names
I can feel the grey in their eyes devouring
As their cloaked hands stretch forward like an endless trail
Until
They reach around my throat
Suppressing my wails
I scream and kick but nothing ever happens
It goes on as my skin rubs against my bones in agitation
And I am left with nothing but two breaths and a body full of raging marks
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