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Solitude binds the hold within For transgressions of the past Sins of tomorrow quite prepared Under the weight of its inevitable collapse For so long laying alone Waiting for what will never be As times hand passes by Never is it gracious to thee For all of the riches I’d trade For its tender console The bleakness never leaves Seems to place its grip around my throat Yet as you reflect on the past The memories seem so strange What was once filled with hope Now left with a bitter disdain And as you look forward to future Every day’s exactly the same You hope for the best While you try to stomach the bitter taste Left behind I seem to be Never was I really there Collapsed under this weight Another victim of its darkened stare
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Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 12:29 AM UTC
Cheyne Stokes
Solitude binds the hold within For transgressions of the past Sins of tomorrow quite prepared Under the weight of its inevitable collapse For so long laying alone Waiting for what will never be As times hand passes by Never is it gracious to thee For all of the riches I’d trade For its tender console The bleakness never leaves Seems to place its grip around my throat Yet as you reflect on the past The memories seem so strange What was once filled with hope Now left with a bitter disdain And as you look forward to future Every day’s exactly the same You hope for the best While you try to stomach the bitter taste Left behind I seem to be Never was I really there Collapsed under this weight Another victim of its darkened stare
Written by
22/M/The Dirty South
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 12:29 AM UTC
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