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To The Dark
I belong to the dark,
death can speak to me.
I crave for an option,
the walls try to speak to me.
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You slay me every minute
I feel my breath running out
I remember I said
Either fight or fly with me…
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The walls are screaming,
I can’t tell their language
The cold has gone down my veins,
Everything seems like a shooting star,
And I am slowly giving in.
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This poem is versatile. Thank you for sharing.
Thanks for stopping by, Derrick.