Echos of verbal daggers reverberate within haggard walls. Like shadows, insults cling onto every surface to shroud it in darkness. I feel small here; vulnerable. The sensory overload is too much. Suddenly, I'm overcome by the loud reminders of perceived past weaknesses clanging harshly. My reality of this cage is not the actuality of the scene. Still all around is the unmistakable blackening of what is before me. Instead, my vision opens to child eyes around 13.
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PoetryA collection of poetry across ages, moments, and confusion. Tw - read at own desire
