Confined
Writing CompilationMy head is heavy, yet so light.
It seems all the ideas in the world are packed into my little brain, but none of them actually enter my core processor. Confined to four walls of claustrophobia, cursed to stay forever. They will never venture out; a tightly bound iron door keeps everything intact.
My head starts to whirl, and I force myself to sleep — knowing that my little thoughts will never breathe, live, nor be freed.
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