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There’s a way with you,
how you see all of me

pulling me out
naked and unashamed

Not only finding my heart, but showing me the path too.

One day, maybe, you’ll let me sift through your ravaged parts

I can’t fix them,
but we’ll merge them with mine
and create something beautiful
Laughter like ice
Coating your cage
a cold prison
Blocking out the abuse

Scraped legs
****** elbows
They whip you with their
silver tongues

Flying, flying
into a black chasm
Echos of your captors
****** your mind

Thoughts
scrambled
they lash out with needles filled
with poison stabbing
out your blood

A shriek, a scream
bouncing around inside you
fainting away
sarcasm overpowers pleas
punches rain in your centre cage.

Rope in hand
gun on the table
thoughts run in your mind
at the window they watch in glee
soon they giggle in shame

The gun hits the floor
the rope from the ceiling
the window now black
They go to haunt someone
else

Your world goes dark
yet, the laughter and stabbing abuse
reigns in your mind
always flying
never
free
A thousand what ifs, a thousand one years.
A thousand beliefs, a thousand one fears.
A thousand what ifs, to thousands of ears.
A thousand mischiefs, to the heart waiting here.

People know darkest is before sunrise.
But with these what ifs, it's darker than dark.
A thousand what ifs and a thousand one sighs.
What if my hoped flame was merely a spark.

A thousand what ifs, should I try to listen
And think and ponder and even consider,
A thousand more chances in my eyes glisten
A withering hope or a shot of wonder.

And thousands of ways, I could hope to die,
Or live, or feel, or end or begin.
And thousands of times, maybe I'd lie
To think that it's real or too good a sin.

A thousand and more, should the truth be told,
I've thought of and given too much my thoughts.
A thousand less more, it was never gold,
Maybe I never knew what I wanted sought.

People say darkest is before sunrise,
For you I decided to live in the dark.
Maybe I like how I lived a lie,
Or truth, whatever, you've made your mark.
This was written sometime last year, I believe. Even I'm surprised by this now. I just told myself "What the hell did I just write?" I loathe how I can be overly sentimental at times.
Zombies exist.
I am a zombie.
I have laughed so hard,
And very long,
That I die.

But I am here.

So I am officially a non-official zombie.
I refuse to follow a trail where everyone else has
Crushed their individuality
firmly into the ground,
Silenced their hopes and dreams
so they no longer make a sound.

You do what you please,
but darling I'll blaze a trial so bright
it'll dull the suns light
And bring the trees to their knees.
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