Don’t Color on the Wall

I think I understand torture

Oh my god who do I think I am

I think I understand pain

Not even the half of it kid

Torture is like being apart

Pain is it not working out.


Oh did I silence the liar? The conscious defier

Maybe I know nothing on any subject

Maybe I am a man more bond by the idea of books

Than any form of implementaion

Perhaps I have built walls of prose, paper, pen

To shield my beating heart from what lies outside

Because I’d rather slowly die in the dark

Than burn up too fast in the sun.


Which is more fulfilling?

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