Organized Crime

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In a metal box they stick needles into
This girl-not-girl
The windows are frosted over so
She cannot watch the birds dance in the
Sunrise
As her blood spirals into their tubes
all she can see is the blood leaving her veins and
She is cold
They are siphoning her life force
Feeding her pills and taking what they want
Sometimes when she looks in the metal-pane mirror
She can't tell if she is looking at herself
Or if the makeshift reflection is warped
Are her eyes really broken
Or is it just bent metal
She wishes someone would ask her
If she needed her blood back
It's not like she has the right to keep it anymore
She wishes someone would tell her what time it is
But they say she's better off not knowing
How long they have been stealing from her

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