Schmidt Works
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
To be Me
Eyes blind,
Senses dimmed.
The whir of the machine,
Starts to spin.
Afraid of rest,
Hours flee.
Enslaved at best,
What’s left of me?
The end is nigh,
My smile is rye.
They’re setting me free,
To be what I want to be.
To be Me.
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