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Rhythm Of Woes

All I can find myself saying is,
How difficult I’ve made my own life by giving up my time to,
The demons in my mind who frolic where my eyes can’t see…
Only company I’ve had for the last 5 years while I starve to death!
Somebody’s love…

Sorry that,
I am not sorry for.
My woeful rhythms.
Flows of sound led by cries stemming from a schism between myself and God I could not control before.
Turning into a tsunami of pain where my pupils drown in what I couldn’t face,
Until now!
As I rise from ash and douse a page or two with tears of ink only a poet can drop…

How far will I go?
Is the question.
Hooked to the unknowns I will never be!
The more I place a period at the end of each death sentence,
Written for those demons.
In my mind…
Demons with a fate of the fiery kind.
Memories of being scorched by a past flame who kept her fire after stealing mine!…

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