White On The Walls


My senses have never quite been the same since being in that room.
The depravity angered my voice and thoughts within,
and I could see beyond the white.

The warmth of my numb hand lingered on my cheek;
my body was as rigid as my two years prior in the January month.
Blue did nothing but taunt my aching soul,
and I could see beyond the white.

The flashing auras soon intertwined with the imaginary shadows.
Serpents circled around me,
invisible hands ensnared my body to petrification,
and I could see beyond the white.

Daggers plummeted through my skull
and laid the eggs of voices in the crevices of my brain.
Words pounded the bruises next to my eye and rib-bone instrument,
and I could see beyond the white.

I died within that baby-blue sky;
my body weeps within the white sheets of hell,
which is now stained with my rosy innards.
Yet, I could see beyond the white.

And when it poured I thanked for being locked within,
for I can see beyond the white.

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