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Iron shackles to broken wrists, cold, wet stone: chains clank in the night. Fire flickers on sconces lining corridor walls. Footsteps echo down the hall; guards speak of a new prisoner's arrival-- Someone important, wise: confusion abounds at this stranger's fate. What time shall he arrive this eve? Where will he be taken? This place was not built for political prisoners. The rest of us forgotten: the small, shared meal lost; hunger gnarls within. Moans -- loved food is wasted.
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Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC
The Prisoner
Iron shackles to broken wrists, cold, wet stone: chains clank in the night. Fire flickers on sconces lining corridor walls. Footsteps echo down the hall; guards speak of a new prisoner's arrival-- Someone important, wise: confusion abounds at this stranger's fate. What time shall he arrive this eve? Where will he be taken? This place was not built for political prisoners. The rest of us forgotten: the small, shared meal lost; hunger gnarls within. Moans -- loved food is wasted.
written in 2012 80 words, contracted from a 100 word poem "The New Arrival"
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Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC
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