Darkness courses through my veins,
the very blood of my body,
my own life force turned cold,
by the bitterness of the past.
Even in harbored fantasy,
I lay tossing and turning
reliving nightmares that never end,
tormenting me even when I am awake.
The bittersweet symphony of strength
the living after the death of a childhood
playing over and over in my head
like the record from hell
that is stuck on a loop.
Curses spew from nowhere
plagues of visions of blood and lights.
Dark clouds hover above my head
and drowning I reach up,
grasping at air because nothing is there.
No one to catch me as I fall.
Smoke lingers in the air,
wafting through the breeze,
like a burned memory upon my mind
branding me with the ever knowing
"B"
Never to be whole again,
cursing the existance that I am forced to continue,
like a slave in shackles
I am a lone soldier fighting a battle
against an army of guilt, pain, and memory
slowing giving ground,
until one day the cloud will rain,
and the soldier will fall.
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