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Disturbing Fight. I dream sometimes, of death a destination, an escape from pain, my bludgeoning thoughts. Demons within rule the realm, yearning and fearing not, the end. Each day I wake, an excuse I find, to remain. But I am, running out, of excuses. And this scares, my moral soul. Though I act immoral, I fear the flames of hell, and Dante's particular level. What be it tomorrow? I know not. My waking hours, I will lie in bed, and think the reason. One day closer, to no answer, and the destination reached. |
Additional Notes:
Do not call social services or any crisis hotline! (LOL) This is a poem written trying to look within a struggle that many people suffer everyday -
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