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Tell Me
© by Tori Ratcliffe

Tell me now, how it feels to be chill and sightless.
Are you still within?
Trapped, perhaps, within the encasement of flesh you were born to.
Confined in birth.
Confined in death.
Tell me now. Do you sail on ethereal currents, free above our heads?
Do you laugh at my plight?
Free, perhaps, to do as one of being never could imagine.
Confined in birth.
Free in death.
Tell me now, if the essence persists to linger.
Can you hear my words?
It may be perhaps, that life exists only while blood still flows.
Confined in birth.
Confined in life.
Tell me now.
I gaze into your still face hoping for an answer.
Receiving none.
It will be that I find the truth
if I have to kill again.
If I have to kill again.
It will be that I learn before my own body betrays me.
To send me helpless into the unknown.
Will I be trapped? Will I be free? Or nothing at all?
Come. You know.
Tell me now.

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