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Writer's pictureChristine Truong

Structures Encased Within

Somewhere a structure, a dark skyscraper

Stretches from the soil to beyond

Securing a soul, searching for a source of escape

Surrounded by the support of snakes

The soul climbs a hidden staircase to reach the stars


The skyscraper of worlds

Formed from stars on top of stars

Spheres of societies stacked neatly

Never had one stumble into a new star

Yet


Stage one was a beautiful modern world

The sky was striking as the sun shined

But adjust your sight

Past the light lies a strange scenery

The soul sings for truth, but silence rules society

Their subject must be shut down


“Special little subject, what a sight for sore eyes”


Skies of screens surveil souls of this limited society

The superstition of the eyes in the sky

The sleep that seduces souls

Into sweet satisfaction

To sustain successful suppression


Wishing to soar, the soul seeks out the system

The source to set their spirit free

One day, like the striking squalls on a sail

Soaring toward the sun with all their strength

The soul becomes a sharp scythe that slices the skies

Splitting the soul

On the other side


Somewhere a structure, a dark skyscraper

Stretches from the soil to beyond

Securing a soul, searching for a source of escape

Surrounded by the support of snakes

The soul stares at the staircase

Of the second stage


Sliding into the in-between

The soul stared at the system’s grand doors

Huge smooth silver doors

Silence grew louder

With no skies to spy


Time for the soul to make a surprise escape

Stumble from the first structure to freedom

Shoot towards the skies

The soul sprints through shining doors


“Special little subject, a spineless soul who dares for the skies”


The second structure of another fake

The sun sweeps shame over the soul

The stunning sky shifts into a steel pipe

That struck their stone-cold hope

Structure shadows structure

Stage shadows stage

A smooth suffering

Simple slanderous bliss


The system shaped the towered structure

Like layers of cake stacked, sealed, secured together

Layers and layers of sweet, salty, seedy lies

How many shining doors to getaway?


“Special little soul, the perfect specimen”


The supervisor remains full of skepticism

For the strangled small soul

Has soared past their stage

Sentencing themselves to another stronghold


Strange for a subject

To escape false serendipity

For significance sinister surveillance

To see the soul who can see beyond the screen


Sickness stirs in the soul

Suppressing the stars

Wishing for a saviour


To save the souls of shallow subjects from the system

Endless it seems, but the little soul will sneak, slither and steal

To snatch small souls for the starved spiritless


The soul stares beyond the sky

Beyond the screen

Surrender or seek sanctuary

If one can even survive beyond the skies


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