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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Psychology · #2298885
When Isolation becomes a way of life. A Pseudotaph Form.
I wallow in my feather pillow
giving the geese back their voice
sending the feathers quivering
locked within their prison.
Dead geese are still imprisoned
and I am scattered, lost with them.
The breeze of freedom no longer
flow through these feathers;
Lost is the beauty
gone is the innocence.

(10 lines)

Form: Pseudotaph

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