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I can't remember why I held you up so high,
You've got nothing but a cold emptiness inside.
It spread like a virus and washed over me,
Into my strength you planted the weakest seeds.
I became what you wanted, broken to nothing,
When all I ever desired to be was your something.
You held me so low that I scraped on the ground,
With your virus inside I couldn't make a sound.
I just bled and I bled until nothing was left,
You kept all my pride for yourself, such a petty theft.
I held you so high that you couldn't see the floor,
But I see the error in my ways and say, "Nevermore."
 Apr 2016 Imad Black
AK93
Our natural rights have been forgotten
Freedom must be something that nobody understands
Life should be unplanned and pleasant
But instead we work and follow other's demands
What is existence if it comes with a price
We must take our lives back with our own hands
An anxiety attack holds the body pressed against a table, unable to even struggle as the ropes pull and fold the layers of your mind like a peeling lable

Cloth begins to cover the exposed skin, over a layer of sweat that starts soaking in, panicked and encased in claustrophobia with weaning breaths that sound out a hallowed hymn

Skin pulled tight along the muscles, layers ripping across the joints like papyrus separating blood vessels, body pressed so tight that straight knees crack with the buckles

Unable to evade the stout flame hooking into the small of your back flaring up to the ceiling charring the body black, its a panic attack that has you trapped

Mummified and cremated without a hope of escape while motivation lays in ashes around the structure left behind in the agony of a triggered perception

All without the grace of an execution outside of this institution, locked away from happy thoughts and depression, the trauma stops only when it waits to feed on the negative pollution.
 Apr 2016 Imad Black
Chris Thomas
Tender helpless hands
Outstretched from the colossal abyss
That is love, loss, and lethargic lullabies

Digging deeper
The dirt is caking underneath my fingernails
Desperately clawing to find a God within his children

Yet finding nothing of the sort
Weary arms become numb and listless
Letting shadows consume the brief pale sunrise

Grappling with faith
Bleeding like horizons over porcelain eyes
Heaven, Hell, or am I straddling fences again?

Bravery before brevity  
Sanity has no sovereign, no direction, no pulse
And honor is a last breath escaping from dying lungs
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