what I want

I want to be

The dirty secret pleasure
that makes you cringe in shame
The thorn you don’t remove
because you relish the heat around it
The rabbit’s foot in the depths of your pocket
you grasp to stop spinning
The inhaler you clasp
when the clouds hang too low
and choke you
The window to the sky
in your prison cell
And the bird on the sill
that mocks you
and flies away
Anything but the pill
that helps you sleep
and forget


your thoughts?

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