Unshackle My Verse

--A sentence to die for-- The air slices sharply through a frigid migraine with the putrid smell of bleach. Shivering awake with a ghastly chill a soundless room stretches; without even the chattering of teeth. Wires twine with metal in bone scraping intensity into pain with every shudder of a whisper. “Hello Clarice” - I can only think with a distant giggle and fond memory. The ambience of the fluorescence shoots through my eyes as they barely open and for the first time ever, experience shrapnel. A sterile and dedicated place I am in. The walls run deep with blank canvas all around. There is only room to write. With no tongue or hand or eye or pen they think I am without?! Feeding off the oppressed faculties of every untold blush - the words will never stop. My mind is already caged… and with beautiful potential. I do not choose to die nor do I envy this life but I will direct my mannerisms toward each day’s moral compass. A survival code for every breath left; however long this be my home. The art of execution remains both of ours to deliver. This I know in my blood as it is written on the walls- "Well, Clarice - have the lambs stopped screaming?" --4/13/2017-- Unshackle my verse contest "What if poetry was illegal?"