I'm waiting for better days to come my way while I sit at the edge of the abyss staring at the darkeness. I can't escape. I'm trying not to succumb to the emptiness that calls me, beckoning me
to live in the nothing like a siren singing to a sailor. With my wings clipped and my will to live fading, I crawl on the cold, hard floor that stands as a reminder of the awful reality I'm forced
to live. I crawl like I wounded soldier bleeding out on the ground, waiting for the sweet release of death.
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The Dark Ages Vol.3 The End Is Near? [Formerly "Blaring Thoughts"]
PoetryI see a light at the end of the tunnel. I hope it's real. I hope I can make it. It's so far away. Will I make it? Will things finally be better?