This place seems battered,
hounded and betrayed.
It's tired and afraid.
How much left is there to lose?
When will the clock on the wall
lose its melodic ticking?
Cold coffee on the counter,
went untouched.
Burn all the blank books on the shelves,
to release their words in horrid shrieks.
Migraines of questions unanswered
but too late to ask.
There's no song and no time
to break this fever.
No time in the world.
It's cold, alone, in bitter words but
better left that way.
There wasn't a light on the horizon
that didn't fade away.
And there's no way out of this place.
So reflex kicks in,
can't hold it any longer,
and water fills the lungs,
convulsions stab at the muscles.
And death comes closer every inhale,
the organs, the heart, the mind.
Become a waste of time.
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