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I hear whispered words of defeat       in a voice made of          Whiskey              and          Blunt Smoke The voice slurs it's words together into     an unbroken chain of pessimism Slowly these chains     that have been conjured from        thin air     start to curl around my legs locking them in place As the voice slows down and becomes     more concise         my bindings rise up Now you see me,      wrapped head-to-toe           not moving I am surrounded by my own doubts,      Weighted down with my own      choices I open my mouth,     Intending to use my Words        like Blades     and cut through these chains when I realize the voice is my own     and I am trapped in a cage of        my own devising
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Mar 18, 2020
Mar 18, 2020 at 7:35 PM UTC
Bound
I hear whispered words of defeat       in a voice made of          Whiskey              and          Blunt Smoke The voice slurs it's words together into     an unbroken chain of pessimism Slowly these chains     that have been conjured from        thin air     start to curl around my legs locking them in place As the voice slows down and becomes     more concise         my bindings rise up Now you see me,      wrapped head-to-toe           not moving I am surrounded by my own doubts,      Weighted down with my own      choices I open my mouth,     Intending to use my Words        like Blades     and cut through these chains when I realize the voice is my own     and I am trapped in a cage of        my own devising
andrea
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American
Mar 18, 2020
Mar 18, 2020 at 7:35 PM UTC
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