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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #1575763
food for my own thougts
In the dark of night,
they come for me.
My most ailing thoughts,
the worst of dreams.
Eyes seem forever shut,
nothing I do seems to wake me up.
Paralyzed from the pain,
that lives through out.
Mind corrupted,
these chains I keep bound.
Lord help to see my many lies,
So my truths can set me free.
© Copyright 2009 maribel johnson (marijay at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1575763-untitled