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Flotsam

October 23, 2016

A cold, callous and vacant feeling

I may look fine, but inside my soul is bleeding.

Haunting demons I must battle at night

Oppressive fears I must conquer in the light.

Each day brings a new chilling reminder,

others seem distant, and to my worries blinder.

I have plotted a course, too lonely and bleak

The company of others, I refuse to seek,

Yet from a distance I watch and envy them all.

Atleast they’re somewhat responding to nature’s call.

While I remain isolated, frozen in fear.

Afraid to let anyone, to me come near.

The more I try, the more unnatural I become.

A drearily drifting piece of flotsam.

Discarded by the living, unwelcome to the dead.

A never-ending purgatory, is the sentence on my head.

Chained to a rock, like Prometheus of old.

No human touch, just ubiquitous stone cold.

As nature and the elements slowly eat away at my flesh,

constricting me to an ever-tightening mesh,

I continue the struggle in my futile endeavour.

No release from this torment, not now, not ever.

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From → Poetry, Spirituality

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