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Back again in this perpetual hell. My lungs fill with a hot watery air. My mouth comes alive as if a drip has leaked. My eyes see the world for all that is around me. My heart aches to be free. All around me I hear their words, commands in this fortress of solitude. I try to hide and not be seen, yet they all find what's beneath me. Another day has come, closer to what is to become. Haste has no place in this awful place. Here we are just another face.


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The following comments are for "Work"
by jazmine marie harbor

work
I liked the message in here but I think the second like kinda ruined this poem for me. How can air be watery? Do you mean moist? This problem of unclarity surfaces a couple more times. You have a very good handle getting your point across vividly, but the imagery is a bit fuzzy. =D Keep it up!

( Posted by: Darkshine Raven [Member] On: December 4, 2003 )





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