you have freedom,
to the extent
of a burning island.
seasons pass
and world's end,
while you are floating
on a vicodin cloud.
a little sign of skin,
it's all the proof you need
for the population might soon notice,
a part of you is missing.
and so,
you cover your little demons up,
it's become something of a routine.
on a daily basis,
fear of judgments being made.
run like hell.
you can never forget,
the void
and the beast
that torments you in your dreams.
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