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Mar 2012
Following the sounds in my head,
Like a crazed form of schizophrenia,
I talk to myself,
Pleading with the dark as I circle around my self,
Like a vulture scavenging upon the road,
That is where I am on the hot tar,
The road to hell,
New waves of violation,
****** impurities crawl through my veins,
My body is twitching with the sting of the drug,
The drug called life,
In which can set you to the dark,
With nothing not even a glimmer of light from a street lamp,
Only hells flaming pits are developed in your eyes,
As you stair into your demise,
Has your path been set?
Conor Cleveland
Written by
Conor Cleveland
517
 
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