Thursday, April 25, 2013


To grasp the blade - remove the ache. To give it all away - brush it aside. The night is bleak, astray, chilling. I strangle the sorrow - I draw the line. I can't believe I'm desolate. The despair of dread sweeps through my soul. I try to escape, but I'm shackled to the misery. The strength I once held fled from me long ago. I am trapped - I grow desperate in this hour. Seeing now way out, no light, no hope. Suffocating in the oppressive air - it is still, frigid, entangling my heart in chains.

(Written by Amy E. McCoy 10-23-06)

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