There Are Tales

There are tales of men
in constant flux and wanting,
unsettled thoughts
in assassin’s eyes,
deluged by faces
and time,
who try to sing songs from their prisons.
Their bodies are cages,
taut and binding
the pacing tiger souls
inside.
Death house dreaming,
inconsiderate of their fictions.
Freedom to kill and take but
the pacing never stops.

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