Pure

A pure and rhythmic deisgn

With a flaw nobody could see

Tangled with vines holding her back

From everything she could be.

Systematically she removed the bonds

With a smile she came back to being

All this time she thought she was living

But never was she seeing.

 

The thing about being bound

Are the rats that take what they can.

Those typing from far away

You aren’t quite sure are even a man.

 

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