It’s cold and quiet

It’s cold and quiet in here

As my heart beats un-rhythmically behind the bone bars

It’s cold and quiet out here

As I lie frozen with dried faeces behind the iron bars

It’s cold and quiet in here

As my stomach has forgotten how to grumble with hunger

It’s cold and quiet out here

As the iron bars have forgotten how to creak with the wind

It’s cold and quiet in here

As my blood silently stills; painting dyes of purples, blues and blacks

It’s cold and quiet out here

As the iron bars softly sway; swirling up in velvet, thick darkness

“It’s cold and quiet in there

And dead.”

 

-thewalkingpencil

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