Elec[trocu]tion

My fingers are like chalk

Turning to dust before my eyes

As I scratch and claw

At the stone wall

At the wooden door

splinters of wood shooting up

Between finger nails and flesh

Nails pull back and pop off

They keep screaming at me

Always the same thing

Always the same thing

Who will you choose

They say

Only one will free you

And it’s me

No it’s me

No, me!

I try to escape on my own

But I scrape myself till I’m nothing

But dust on the floor

And blood scrawled across the wall

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