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It is dark
and the darkness
is complete.
The walls feel of brick
and rise above me.
“Where am I?” I cry.
“Where am I?” comes the
sneering echo.
Hot tears
fill my eyes
as I pound the walls.
Sitting
in the dark,
damp;
hopelessness
sits with me.
“I don’t want to
be here,”
I whisper to the dark.
“The Well of Despair
is not broken by wishes,”
and a small light
appears.
© Copyright 2008 Lani (UN: lani at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
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