Locked-in
The tiles
It was blue
With white flowers
My hands fit just right
Into the little squares
The noise
The constant dripping
And never-ending wetness
And my ever wrinkled fingers
Being pressed into it
The darkness
Only a small window
Just enough light to see my hands
Only enough to see right in front of me
But at least there were lights
The cold
Laying there bare skin
Only my arms for a blanket
But always surrounded by the water
Watching the locked door
I was six
But I remembered every detail
It was blue
With white flowers
My hands fit just right
Into the little squares
The noise
The constant dripping
And never-ending wetness
And my ever wrinkled fingers
Being pressed into it
The darkness
Only a small window
Just enough light to see my hands
Only enough to see right in front of me
But at least there were lights
The cold
Laying there bare skin
Only my arms for a blanket
But always surrounded by the water
Watching the locked door
I was six
But I remembered every detail
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