Tuesday, July 20, 2010

C.H.O.P.

Once a year I walk down this hall
everything is white and pure
wanting the doors locked to me

Too many, they are grateful
this place defines many lives
its reason may be pleasant or unforgiving

Wanted to be an outsider for years
took years before the understanding to sink in
having a life that can be called my own

Finally grasping the unlocked door
I walk in and there lays the nuclear machine
but still hoping to be free for one day

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