On the lines of cracks of your forcefully closed
eyelids hide things that we might know
because we've been seen the world
through the same glassy eyes,
and if it was glass then it, too,
would crack from the disgust you're showing.

You tell them to bury the frozen ashes alive,
bury your very being, your subconscious
because you would rather slip into a dungeon inside you than to
live your days with clenched fists.