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Condemnation.

the folly of the wise.

By Alex BarbuPublished 4 years ago 1 min read
3

the writing on the wall was

chalk

that faded with as little or

as much

as a drop of rain.

the writing on the wall spelled out

secrets, five years’ worth,

and a lifetime more of plans -

and i caged myself in a

box

drawn on the pavement with the most beautiful, colourful, expensive, all-consuming

chalk;

the chalk that i used to build up a foundation from

the bottom,

a sturdy structure that could not be toppled by the world’s biggest machines and

the universe’s strongest forces.

i, however boxed

myself inside the chalk.

and she drew daisies all around me in that cage and said

“smell them.”

i bent down to do so and she stomped

on the back of my head, breaking

my nose and my neck.

my nose bled - and my basic senses left me.

pain swallowed me and my chalk-laden prison was

once and for all

locked.

“they smell amazing.” i said, and

i bet they did.

sad poetry
3

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