Secret Pop

Apr 14, 2003

A coin-sized glimpse of sky

I feel as if I am trapped in a well. Far down in the belly of it, where it is cold and wet in only the wrong places. The certainty that no one is walking nearby keeps me from crying out. But I have no way of knowing. My silence approximates resignation. I am complicit in my own despair. And there is something ill-favored about this particular connotation of "surrender."

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