The System Child She wore it Out, before understanding. Collections of art Strewn, filling her room. Collapsed in ruined meaning. Corded strands, hanging past her chin Plugged into her disastrous mind, A wired amplification, swung to a beat Her feet can never quite keep. Paint peeling from her hole-punched walls Frames without pictures, pictures without - walls crumbling concrete promises. Protruding rebar impales A stuffed childhood friend. Up against her floating bed, She sits with legs spread, Unaware, unprepared, under Someone else's care.
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