Poetry · Writing

silence of the lambs

i don’t remember

what it was before


chances are somethings were the same

just nothing that mattered.

i remember thinking

back then,

that i deserved what i got

if you didn’t work for it

like really work for it

than it wasn’t for you;

just not everyone gives equally

keeping you in the bottom of a well

to be mocked

to be trashed

to be reminded that they have you on a leash

and they control the slack.

i remember thinking

that those days

those days

were a peak.

they bury


whether you’re out


or digging

that well isn’t for you

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