Ficly

Life in Solitary

i pull on the bars
with idle hands
distant eyes
paint flakes off
where the wraith of my rebellion
has rubbed away the time
floating outside
staring up at the sky
fifteen degrees of freedom
in a circle without end
another cup drains
mnemosyne and lethe
taken in turn
for an answer
for a question
i cannot remember
in a place
i cannot forget

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