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Bound

There is an emptiness in me.
It knows no bounds.
Hollow and dull.
It lays beneath the flesh,
Wanton. Wicked. Dark.
I taste its grasp
With wrenching pain
In feeble efforts to break free.
A vicious hold its fingers have;
Dig deep, nails – claws that tear.
And though I scream
The sound is silent
Wallowing in despair.

Duty scorches a soot filled path
Savoring tears that spill.
Rising solely and purging forth.
I am a prisoner. Alone.
Torment is a gift.
For just briefly do I feel.
Yet elusive madness weakens
That beast inside.
It stands tall, vicious and proud
Destroying the hope of love,
The light of life…
In the name of emptiness that
Knows no bounds.

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