the walls were compacted sponge; harmless should she desire a concussion, but lethal to any breathing soul; for light and hope were sucked in, like bad chakra to a dreamcatcher.
strictly business, limbs were bound by hydrocodone chains and thick restraints. They feared her ability with the plastic dinner knife; looking at the carved ridges in her arms rather than the fresh ink on her heart.
it made no difference. cancer won the coup d'etat; her soul was fading like the paint on the walls.
In a list
A contest entry
- we can splatter the rainbow; II by rainbows..
700 points, ended October 26, 5 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 10 of 10
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this was a great poem! i agree, that the last line was truly amazing!
keep writing
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Wow, the last line is amazing. I love the comparison to paint drying. It seems to be a vivid description of someone in an asylum?
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some great images really drive these lines in my mind. nice work.
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powerful imagery... leaves one suffocating. quite upsetting.
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very sad.
very emotional.
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ohhh...ahhh....
impressive 
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Very well done, best of luck
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ouch. so close to home.
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*hugs*
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your color is:
Coral Cream
goodluck.
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