Poetry

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In Her Grip by Kori | Written 6/8/17

Love chained him,
the radiator burns his flesh,
but he doesn’t cry out pain.

Only when she leaves,
is when the walls hear his cries.
The drag from his cig, kills the butterflies.

Cold, tired, barely fed.
Trapped in room 37,
2nd floor.

Rain, snow,
summer, fall.
He remains chained.


Inspired heavily by The Shining and the evil Room 237. Let me know your thoughts! You can find me lurking here:

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Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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