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The Bad Kind of Bondage.

Thrust me
into this place, give
me a name, memory
fades of so
many times before…

Borne into contract
(the bad kind of bondage),
then forced to forget
that its all just a game
and that the game
is rigged.

Found just
to be lost again,
left bleeding away from the mind
like a dream, as though
through the useless
cupping, frantic clutching
of determined fingers.

My rebellion
of memories pushing
hard against the walls
of this flesh-imposed
conscious cell…

Noting the patterns
in the paths
from womb to womb,
still found myself
in a rut stained with déjà vu.

Left dizzy
from another tour
on this misery-go-’round
wheel of misfortune,
another sentence spelled out
through a new version
of the same ol’
hamster wheel existence,
growing sick
of chasing the cheese
forever lingering out there just out of reach.

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