Form: One

Breathing heavily, trying not to make noise
Life held in one hand, steadily dispersing
One by none
To keep from getting caught,

One kneels in darkness
Naive, One is caught and held in solitary confinement
Out in, matter flowing in out
Creating none other than art mastery

Creating respiration; heart racing and throbbing
Unconscious, One is in bed wrapped in concern
But then comes to find that concern is only rendered in his head
And not in his expression,

So he becomes anxious
Deep down inside that little chest of his,
One is filled with fright
Staring into that screen,

Before it the body screams
And with the absence of air,
One slowly begins to wither
By now, he imagines a new world

Lovers fraying against each other
Love fraying into pieces
Resulting in,

Framed: more of a need than want
To be allowed to have a glimpse at life
For the last time
So clear it seemed

That all that was visible is no longer clear to the mind– and rarely seen–
That all One was trying to do was,
Plead to be redeemed

Is in his voice
Not an option,
But only a given
This is the story of a boy

Named One.


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