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Reflections on Time Spent in a Cone

Vision restricted,
and I can’t lick what itches
and the world is terrible.
 
Frustration leads to
low grumbling and I blunder
into furniture.
 
Woman and Man are
deaf to my soft whines of woe:
patient love tested.
 
Finally, I sigh
in resignation to my
term in cone prison.
 
Then, I sigh again
in case they didn’t hear me.
Miserable boredom. 

 

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