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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Dark · #1474873
sometimes ghosts of the past continue to haunt us - Fall of 2007
The ghost of the past haunt me still,
shredding at my soul.
Hell spawned spectors seek to claim
my life drop by agonizing drop.

Talons hot and sharp bite into my
brain.
Leeching every thought till only
surrender is left behind.

Bleeding, burning, roasting in a hell
of my own design.
Seeking the key to loose the
chains that bind.

Freedom dances at the edge of my
prison cell.
Mocking, taunting, laughing at
my pain and fear.

Trapped within the whirl, dizzy
and out of place.
Searching for the price, when will
this debt be paid?

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