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I watched night turn into day --
and witnessed the feeling of my heart drip and stain my rib-cage as it melted away --
And I tried to paint it back into existence --
but my hands have a nasty habit of letting go at the wrong times. 
Do you ever wonder why you wander?
Am I alone in this cycle?
Stuck in a loop of controlled chaos --
calculated movements still result back here.
I've tried different spin offs --
I've put on different faces to fool the one I always meet --
but empty eyes have a way of seeing that I cannot make a clear picture out of --

and that's the entire problem.
It's all murky --
and I cannot see who I am --
or who I was --
and I'm unsure if I reside in reality --
or if I am stuck somewhere between life and death to reap all the things I chose to sow.
I have enough anger to level this field I've placed myself in --
but the moment my courage to do so rises to the occasion --
I am reeled back to the splatters of my soul within my chest cavity --

waiting for the next time I unshackle my restraints to find a new pair. 

Confessional Poetry. 

I am still here. 

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