A silent cold rushes over my skin
clammy in midsummer-
I feel the tears and all the pain
but wreak to hell of the distant dead.
Where am i now but stranded and alone-
doubted by my heart and viciously re-born by my kin.
I know little about the road ahead
and visions and fear over take my eyes-
so much so i feel farsighted and dead-
like a corpse looking up from its unholy bed.
I know what i want and cannot achieve it
so alone i am because i sever my ties.
Either I'll grow stronger and learn to live on pittens
or i'll be happy i made the attempt
and unobtrusively die.
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