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Constriction
By
Mila Clarke

Entrapment.
They've built the walls
Inside my head.
If I pull them down,
I will find myself
Cold and alone
All protection ripped from me,
Torn by my own hand.
To flex my wings
I must clip the bars,
If I dare to fly,
They must clip my wings.
Facing me is a
Wire and mesh topiary,
Disguising silent boundaries.
Individuality
Must conform.
I am free
They say,
As long, they think,
As I do not stray.
I may look
While they judge
The things I do not know,
That they refuse to touch.
My prison is made from
From frosted windows
With a bubble at each end
To grant me glimpses
Of a world
From which
My isolation is
Subtle but complete,
Spending dwindling curious hours
Lip reading the outside's
Liberal correspondence
I find no meaning in a
Thousand sentences
To which I can relate or
Comprehend.
Breaking from
My guide ropes
Would slash my safety net
But what life is left to risk,
When all experiences I may feel
Are filtered through my
Guardians' sieve


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