The Whitewashed Room Poem by Cody O'Hara
The Whitewashed Room
Whitewashed room
Bathed with dead light
From false suns
A smell of bodies lingers,
Masked by the putrid lies
Kept in little bottles
The false wind buffets my face
As the pencil in my hand
Mars the pure white paper
The clock ticks, reminding
Me of what lies outside
Beyond the locked door
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5/12/2024 9:20:44 AM # 1.0.0.1119
