Twin birds,
Each with a different song
On the same branch

Twin birds,
One white, the other black
Both the same beak

Twin birds,
Face each other with comradery
each with wings

Can fly to a different tree
But choose to stay

Clean walls,
Clear mind
The white trim,
The crisp bed
Create a symphony of silence.

And I can think again.

And I can breathe again.

For it is here I can make my own music.

Strong words,
expressive voice
cacophonous whisper,
silent scream

In the clean walls,
In the white trim
under the crisp bed,
In the silence

Airtight
I cannot breathe

A cold stare,
From my own gaze-
Smothers my thought
And leaves me tripping-
On my own breath