deepundergroundpoetry.com
Shackled
Here i am, in this bedlam.
Shaking my fists, slitting my wrists.
Pounding on the walls, awaiting for them to fall.
Hoping this malison will be lifted.
So i can once again be free from me.
Shaking my fists, slitting my wrists.
Pounding on the walls, awaiting for them to fall.
Hoping this malison will be lifted.
So i can once again be free from me.
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