Doctors’ orders

He told me to scribble

all of my hopes

But when you’re a skeleton

Limbs rattle and clank

only to cause a flood of ink

No real tears to cry

or soft words remain

to envelope bones

Weathered by the years

softened by the rain

He told me to write down all of my dreams…

but there are bats in my skull

and nobody in the world

wants to hear them scream

Some things you can’t say

to polite company

or in general

lest they shut you away

My memories do not belong in words

but in containment

A cage for violence and blood

who flutter as frightened birds

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