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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Gothic · #2181946
When the inner demons win
Bound by torment, I am hell-ward bound,
Stumbling towards the devouring dark.
Sound of mind yet my soul is not sound,
Forever cursed to bear this mark.

Rattle these chains while frayed nerves rattle,
Coarse hisses of revelry follow me down.
Ravel cruel misery, sanity unravel,
Till madness I wear, a corrupted crown.

Shadow my steps, oh sinister shadow.
Tighten your leash so I choke out a gasp.
Winnow these sins; oh please specter, winnow.
Strip my spirit bare within your harsh grasp.

Air whispers around misfortune's new heir.
Freezing, I wonder what the phantom stole.
Where is the warmth that I used to wear?
Murky ice bleeds from this stygian hole.

Pray not for me: For on you, I prey.
Heartless, devouring organs I lack.
Stay away, this wicked hand will not stay,
Corrupted by pain, I cannot hold back.

(20 lines)
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2181946-The-Descent