4 walls, bare, white
Puke green floor
Filled with the dreams of those before me
Visiting hours become strict after 5
The warden wants no
Individuals
Only perfect clones
Many of us rebel
With contraband in our cells
And small traces of who we are
I’ve been caught many times
My silencing will be this Friday
Which means it’s already too late for me
Heed my warning
Do not let them change you
Bend the rules
The system hates error
Error loves you
0 comments:
Post a Comment