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I see it being built, in the eyes in a mirrorreflecting the house inside made by bricks,woods, and stones replaced bythe fires of guilt. Caught in the echoof the phrase remained unsaid,keeping me trapped inside the burninghouse that was never a home.
Now the ashes are fallingand the the fire lines began to recedeas the rain starts to pour, washing awaythe mess and turning it to a solid slateof rock that I threw on the lake, disturbingthe calm waters, forming ripples that graduallyelevated itself from the shore, rising in itself a waveof revenge upon the instigator.
Entangledby wires of the thoughts like threads of silkspindled and shaped that of a spider’s webleaving me suspended on the ground of theforsaken, forgotten and free. My skintouches the angry waters like a breezeof the wind. Weightless and unmovingand I realized it is the water that I am breathing.
Let out the light of obscurity against my skin,constantly covering me as a comfort, a cushion,a solace of embracing silence.
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All I know is my truth and at 16 I was in a substance induced psychosis...and I got this
Have you ever been so aware of you self that you felt like you've lost your self?