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Slow death
The ropes keep tightening.
My freedom,
my life as an American,
is slowly dying,
dying so slowly.
You keep pulling,
you just keep pulling on the ropes.
And I feel like I’m dying,
dying a very painful,
very slow death.
I now feel the ropes
there tightening again.
I can’t breath anymore
My confinement is worse.
I will die,
That is for certain.
As I suffocate,
I wonder why you did this.
Was it because you were scared,
or do you just not trust me?
Either way it doesn’t matter,
because I’m still dying.
I’m dying a slow death.
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