In our weakness we write down our dreams
Often simply an exercise designed to expel our real fears
The fears born out from our past
Deplorable in nature
Though forever vivid in detail
Why is it that the things we always hope to remember
The joys of our life
Fade in the memories eye
Whereas all we wish to forget
We can never escape
Haunting us in our dreams
Scarring the days of our future
A future forever tainted
It is said we are defined by the things we have done
If this is true
I must always be the deserving whore
Raped for your pleasure
And this forever my hell
© Copyright 2016 Byron Quinn. All rights reserved.
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