To Those Who Take

are whispers
heard in darkness.
in a black room
with walls ground of bones,
I hear them murmur,
telling lies
of how they’ve come
to be locked inside.
They talk over one another,
always asking for more
than I can give.
Their voices turn
into echoes
upon echoes
that continue endlessly
amongst the bats and the dust.
I turn away
and cover my ears.

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