Words, reverie, spiralling darkness, cold.
An oubliette, silent, retentive and old.
When will it end? Why do I suffer?
Will my I sanity hold me tougher?
Or will I fail, give In.
Not even try to fight or swim?
To beat my demons, take flight, soar,
Thus all will hear my roar.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
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