Published January 9, 2010
I sat there in a straight jacket, in a corner. All around me were
walls of soft material. No matter which way I shifted positions, my
body was engulfed in pain. Cuts all over me seeped red through the
white fabric of the jacket every time I moved. I felt a sneeze come,
and I thought to myself, "Please god no," and with an inward heave of
my chest, I sneezed, my face's muscles distorting its image, and
searing pain drowned my mind in panicked thoughts. As if the knife
was cutting into my face yet again. Both arms restrained, legs
chained together, I sat alone in that corner, and three words escaped
my lips. "Free at last."
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141,605 Literary Works • 675,132 Reviews
I think he did write one poem on here. I like the twist at the end, I always love a bit of irony. Phillip K. Dick was amazing at that. Good luck, this piece is great
I agree, I really think that you would be good at writing poetry because you have a very poetic way of writing and you use some very good words. You are also very good at describing the surroundings. Well done.
Keep Writing
Lydia
I think you have a very poetic way of writing, I like how you carefully picked your words as these were very detailed.
I hope you continue, and WELL DONE