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Jan 2017
My pencil scribbles
on this empty sheet
defining the story of my life.
Incoherent lines for
incoherent thoughts,
unable to describe this strife.

These useless words dance
on the empty edges of lined pain.
These ruthless monsters rejoice
onΒ Β the empty corners of my brain.

My mind is a battlefield
of meaningless words
and demons of the past.
The only hero left
is a sole broken soul
that'll never even last.

But one look at you
and the lost soul is no more.
Something new flickers,
there's some hope for the war.

But the flicker of hope vanishes
as the last straying colors fade grey.
The hero knows it is a zero,
and doesn't want you to stay.

Because I'd let hope in to help,
but it's too late to try.
I have to fight this battle myself
Can't let you in to drown and die.

I'm bad news and a lost cause
all rolled into one
I may smile but I'm shattered,
incurable when the day is done.

Like these words I pour out.

Chained up by demons, too broken to shout
Rebel Heart
Written by
Rebel Heart  BetweenTheBrokenWords...
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