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My Soul is tormented and I cannot take flight,
alone in a room overwhelmed in the fight.
My struggle goes on night after night,
no relief only pain, so goes my plight.
Perhaps, I'll sleep early and fool all my pain,
but the torments still haunt me I'm awaken again.
Tossing and turning all alone in that room,
my only companion, a deep sense of doom.
I cry out for mercy in the still of that night,
not a voice to be heard, there's no beacon of light.
My weeping is inner in the pits of my soul,
longing for comfort and a sense to feel whole.
My sighing seems constant, trapped from within,
there is no pleasure, my will has worn thin.
I've reached a plateau, what should I do?
My life has unraveled, there's no stick, there's no glue.
Oh, people they see me and think all is well,
that's far from the truth, my sorrows still dwell.
Well, the Buzzards have smelt me taking flight in the air.
Circling and circling for death appears near.
I can see them, so I name them, high up in the sky,
their names are all common urging this soul to die.
The Buzzards of Sorrow, Guilt and of Shame,
hover high over me but there's still more to name.
The Buzzards named Lonely, Despair and Fear,
fly over closely intent to come here.
There's that Buzzard named Hopeless swooping low for a peek,
smelling my soul, sensing I'm weak.
Yet, the biggest Buzzard drops down from his glide,
tearing my soul, he's called Suicide.
P.S To be continued................ my life .
P.S.S You shall not die but live and declare the goodness of the Lord in the land of the Living.
Per the Lord.
cc:
The Devil, the world, the doubters, my failures and those buzzards.
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