Free verse — Each day,
hour
minute
second,
stabs deeper
with each
blunt stroke. Breath stifled,
choked
by silent
hands.
Living half (in)
chasing
an (out) Exit —
not found, for real?
doubts truth. Until The urge
a feeling,
a sight
a silhouette,
buried
in the distant
inscrutable,
unknown. Familiar,
whispers. Could it…