A room.
Four walls.
One bed and a cup of coffee.
A chair.
Some air.
One tired clock.
Pick a soul.
Lock it in a bottle.
Shake it until it vanishes.
Break a heart.
Cut it in two.
Hear its scream.
Block the windows.
Chained dreams.
Lie on the floor.
Bleed a painting.
Feed the angst.
Pull the trigger of a gun called truth.
Ananda Alves
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/roulette-2/
