Bell Tower Blues

To open the drawer, see what light shines through. The keyhole is a view much less than ordinary. Abnormality in abundance, the trance of onlooking tense traditions of privacy, dominating the absurd taxing entertainments of the captured state. Damned inside these four walls, Letióa slumped to the darkest corner. She sighed.

“Getting out, I’ve got to get out. I’ll drive myself mad in here. Ha! Mindless Mad Mary’s mother Melissa, they’ll call me. How could they?”

Monotony is the foundation of which their existence combines entrapment and deceit.

“Do no weep for me.”

Her fate in store, would you care to know? The only blow more intense, snapped all but two shakes about the coconut. Where are you? Are you ready for the turnaround of the season? It’s the same reason the evil twisted the ground. The resounding ignorance guarding the room won’t even acknowledge the captives evidence. Let alone give her a chance at redemption. The static from the radio is enough to turn anyone insane, today, tomorrow she will be doomed to spend eternity locked away in a dungeon made of stone. Cold, mossy, impenetrable; home.

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