Contorting myself to impressive lengths
I finally fit in a box
A box of norms
Though
It resembles the Iron Maiden far more than anything
The rusted box
Aged by ancient beliefs still held dear
Tightens
Leaving a flower without scent
Dreams are shattered
No more than dust
At least
Dust fits well in a box.
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Epiphanies
PoetryHer mouth opened and words poured forth like so much torrential rain. Completed
