deepundergroundpoetry.com
State-of-mind
He pointed
He pointed not at himself
But the tomb he was encrypted at birth
Muscles contracting
Fingers shaking
He pointed
He pointed not at his home
But the torture chamber that seized the boy to anguish and fear
Teary-eyed
Heart pounding
He pointed
He pointed not at his school
But the asylum that huddled him in the corner fearing his own state-of-mind
Bruised knuckles
Chewed finger nails
He pointed
He pointed not at the world
But the chains that cuffed his ankles restricting him as he tried to fly
Quivering lip
Shaking knees
He pointed
He pointed not his finger
But the steel to his temple that would give him the wings he prayed for every night
Whitened-stare
Flat pulse
He pointed
He pointed not a steel weapon
But his chin towards the sky
He jumped
He flew
He soared
He pointed not at himself
But the tomb he was encrypted at birth
Muscles contracting
Fingers shaking
He pointed
He pointed not at his home
But the torture chamber that seized the boy to anguish and fear
Teary-eyed
Heart pounding
He pointed
He pointed not at his school
But the asylum that huddled him in the corner fearing his own state-of-mind
Bruised knuckles
Chewed finger nails
He pointed
He pointed not at the world
But the chains that cuffed his ankles restricting him as he tried to fly
Quivering lip
Shaking knees
He pointed
He pointed not his finger
But the steel to his temple that would give him the wings he prayed for every night
Whitened-stare
Flat pulse
He pointed
He pointed not a steel weapon
But his chin towards the sky
He jumped
He flew
He soared
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