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Feb 9
There is nothing but darkness here
And rot that fills the air,
Every day I cross murals of my yesterday
And memories I cannot bear,
Dwindling and shattering asking
To why I'm so fragile.
Fragile
I've lived inside a broken shell,
Cracked and leaking
spilling on those who come too close,
I always run away
But no matter how far I go
I cannot escape my fate.
Fate
That binds me to this self-loath
Where flies are my only friends,
This stench that I cannot endure
But now I know too well,
A slave to my misery
A king of this empty hell.
Hell
To offer up my life to the noose
that hangs around my neck,
never tight enough to end this
But with every breath I clench
Reminds me of my worthlessness.
Worthlessness
A burden to my own mind
A wall to my questions of being
Hollow yet overflowing
I've seen enough to know
This tunnel has no end in sight
The light has failed to reach what’s inside.
The Myth of Sisyphus was a heavy read, and I am not recovering from it.
Sidharth Suraj
Written by
Sidharth Suraj  22/M/India
(22/M/India)   
258
 
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