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Oct 2019
Slave to sordid thoughts
governing my well-being,
I am constantly consumed
by chemicals I cannot control.

Consider me a scorpion,
surrounded by fire.
With no options left,
I turn my stinger on myself.

Pierced in the back,
I am my own assailant.
With only meaningless metaphors,
I welcome the scorpion's sting.
Written originally as prose in January 2018.
HearseTraffic
Written by
HearseTraffic  26/M
(26/M)   
166
   Fawn
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