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An old sad poem I wrote, 06/25/08  
04:46pm 12/12/2012
 
 
hottopicpunk
Sometimes I feel like my life is a prison cell with no windows or doors. This cold, dark, lonely place where I'm left to bruise my hands and soul banging on the wall, hoping and crying and screaming for someone to free me, screaming for a way out of this empty shell that is my body. My lonely soul grows tired of colliding into every cruel, unyielding wall in this prison. With no hope to live on, my soul slowly recedes and fades away. The essence of my being, once colorful and luminescent, is becoming a weeping grey wasteland. My desolation has started to show in my eyes. There is nothing in this world for me, nothing to make me feel whole again. My being has been shattered and broken so many times that is has become nothing but sand, which is slowly seeping through the very pores of my skin.
Is this life unending? Is there no end to this pointless masquerade, where everyone hides their true self behind a mask of deceit?
Stop my breath, my heart from beating, for there is only a void where there once was life. I don't want to be foolish enough to live when there is so much to die for.
This darkness in my soul is consuming me, I can't escape. So many demons want to drag me down, and I no longer have the strength or will to deny them.
When my demons come for me, I will go willingly. Being devoured has to be better than this, if only that it will put an end to this insufferable tragedy they call life.


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