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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 12, 2018

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Submitted: August 12, 2018



The dreams dripping with red crimson
The doubts never die
The emptiness fills me
Until I cannot breathe
And I rather die
Than be filled with nothingness
Stuck in the motion
While everything else moves forward
I still stay here
In my silence

The ground in front of me is barren
The shackles stop the escape
There is no relief in those cages
My soul split in two
One side wants to get out
Other stopped caring centuries ago
Or maybe it was only a few months ago
But it feels like this land of nothing
Is all I know now

My conscience feels dead
Because I kill myself without any feelings
I long for the pain
To feel that I am still real

You can have my kingdom of thorns
And leave me with nothing else
A solitude in the everlasting dark
The shouts change into whispers
And whispers change into deafening silence
A broken mask unrepairable
Falls to the ground and changes into dust
Lying right along with my hopes and dreams
But as I lie alongside them
I am not dead
I am far worse
I am empty.

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