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eighty years. Category: Poems
The room shakes; soon soon. The whiteness is to become black. The getaway car left far too early - the criminal, left behind. Left to answer the police's questions - his crime is unknown to them - a foreign concept.
The silence screams at him for all they're yet to find. Bankruptcy. Petty crimes that all add up to make him the perfect candidate for a penthouse prison cell.
Looking down from the imagined bars he sees what used to be. Where is his key? His lawyer? His innocence plea? Did he miss his trial? Who was the judge? Will he ever leave his cell again?
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