My bars are so tight around my neck. Bars are supposed to stay at a distance, straight and true, to keep you locked inside; they are not supposed to creep toward you, to grasp your neck and choke the life out of you. But my bars, they choke and they close tighter and tighter. Sealing off the air, sealing off the vital life-giving supplements.

I try to fight them, I try to relieve myself, but I cannot. I grasp through the bars, hands catching only air. There is no one to hold the bars back, no one to relieve the pressure.

They tell me only I can fight the bars. Only I can relieve my suffocation. But I’ve spent all of my time trying to relieve theirs. So what am I left with? I am exhausted from the everyone else’s fight and have left nothing for myself. And so they close-my bars-tighter and tighter. Bruising my neck and cutting off my air.

Fight them like this, yells someone who has never fought my bars. But I am unconvinced that they know the secret to my bars, and so I do not fight like that. You have to do it like this, says someone else who has no idea of my bars. But again, I know that they cannot understand my bars, and so again I refuse. And in the end amongst the confusion, I do not fight.

I let the bars choke and hold until I have no air left. But perhaps the dark unknowing will be a relief to these bars.

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