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*The following poem's original title is "Thorns", but I was unable to put that as the title. Thus, I had to create an edited title instead.

Pricking at my skin and picking the vessels underneath
Blood starts to seep from my veins
Stained hands tear at my flesh looking for the sickness
But there is nothing here, only a man crying to be freed

This prison I am in has no walls
No bars can hold what's inside
Forged from the coal and made by human hands
I have created my own sorrowful downfall

I walk the land as though I'm in a trance
Feeling like someone is calling to me
Climbing mountains and swimming seas to find the cure
But no one is here, only a man full of thorns

Trying to destroy the only thing I cling to
Without this last thought, I would be an empty vessel
All the things I have believed in has caused this pain
Hope is the only thing I have left

Submitted: March 02, 2010

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