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Rise, Roar. 

Behind their wall,
beyond my screens
for reality, back on a cold table
in a cool room,
held hostage by their eyes,

no debate required,
even in absence of a napkin.

Ensnared, held down, bound. 
Stripped of my second skin.

Now they’re drilling, peeling
away the layers of veils. Exposure.
Vulnerability stretching
into extra dimensions.

Much rather you just kill me.
It has now crossed
the point of maybe: no,
death would surely be mercy.

Naked, shivering,
feeling you now passed
the thin veneer
digging still through bone
to marrow

into soul, where you make
a hole, customized
for you, and finally rape me.

Stumbling away, broken
and hardly alive, push through recovery,
cast away the nurturing
earth to rise, roar from the grave,
find some way to still be me
and walk the path of survival.

Try to live, make something of my life.

Still, you refuse
to just leave me alone, just wait
till I find my breath,

a place to stand,
some peace, solace
in these scattered 

pieces of mind
before I am at square 
one, before I am back again,
in this tomb, in my new womb.


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