This by Sean King

is not the world I was born
to a lifetime of bad decisions
clenches skeletal fingers around
me behind these steel doors
razor fences and rifles
Thrown into an orange-clad race
towards violence
I cast shade over the cold
chemical flicker
Days drag like rusted nails
months lurch like slugs
years become glaciers
Time is as drunk
as those who slosh
through it
I stand half in memory
half in future
The distance between
is a short poem

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