Poetry / The Asylum

White,
It consumes that of what I have left.
Sanity,
Perception of the world,
Memories of you.

Blinding orbs suspened overhead
light the over-keenly room,
_{Cell Block 119}
the words trek across the door
as my pupils adjust to the intensity.

As of where I am?
It’s of no importance,
No worry…
A prison? no,
rather, to me,
A representation of government.

White lies,
Restraints and
Reform

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