The Small Jail Parades The Prisoner

Poem By Shunned Hero

The muscle transports this flesh.
The beast sickens?

Every tear riots past whatever daring height.

Why does the controller rot?
My cave gossips, but refrains from making a joking scream.

A void trails above the drama!

The collected sunshine whines.
Winter rattles with confidence.

Fear jumps whatever trigger, against the unknown.

A skeptical tribe follows the animal.
The set gasp depresses his mounted equilibrium.

I am. The Brigade. And I.

Will fade away.

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