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Saturday, 10 January 2015

My Words- part two

Dorothy
Cold marble shivered through his fingers,
The whiteness of the walls echoed back his own thoughts at him,
Again and again,
Looping continually through his mind, 
His fingers tapped frantically, louder and louder against the side of the bathtub,
There was no escape.
A spider spun desperately across the carpet,
Dislodged from its hidden corner,
The spindly legs quivering, so tiny, so fragile,
Like a miniature symbol of the person inside him,
Out of control, exposed, vulnerable.
Where were the windows? 
There was no opening into the outside world
Nothing to remind him of the things that mattered
Just the whiteness, 
everywhere, 
white walls, white marble, white person.
Who was he?
No-one would come,
The water settled itself around his skin, 
Cold seeping through his body until he felt it right inside himself.

Picture taken from www.proj3ctm4yh3m.com

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