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Jul 2014
The past is my ball and its chain I suppose.
It holds me, enfolds me, and sold me, and goes
Wherever I stray in my ghostly cold mind
And echoes; the yarn of my memories unwind.

I wake up to darkness inside my own head
To fight off the bitter sensation of dread.
I squint into fuzziness, hoping to find
The person who opens the cage of my mind.
Ix Ryley
Written by
Ix Ryley  21/Cis/Albany
(21/Cis/Albany)   
293
 
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