The air tasted stale, like worn-out cardboard. The rancid smell of it pierced my nostrils and flooded my lungs like a thick miasma. This has been my life for the past 14 years. A small stone cell with nothing in it except for a decaying girl. I didn't need to eat, unlike my mother. When she died, I took her place in here. I was given nothing and knew no one. I took comfort in the fact that ai knew how to write and could imagine what no other could. But that was only a flimsy façade. Nothing could replace the real world, one I had only a glimpse of before I was trapped forever. I fabricated a reality in my mind that stayed only for a short amount of time before the wishing started again. That hid me to never wish, and so I didn't, fearful for whatever would happen if I did. But one day I did wish and everything changed. But it was definitely not for the better.
YOU ARE READING
Mmhmm I'm Bored
PoetryThose little things that pop into your head that you can't help but write down. I suppose it could be counted as freeform poetry-ish. Cover by the exalted @FableWrites.
