A presence I possess still merely repels,
I can’t morph into a self for someone else,
I walked the beaten path through thick and thin,
Yet the fractures on my legs tore all the skin.
Through the wounds, a modest fragment had escaped,
Each cell multiplied, but the toxic frame stayed,
Left behind, out of mind, just rotting underground,
And I still hear screeching, tears, discord in sound.
I can’t help but count the days until the silk is torn,
A better self, a latter half, an anthropoid is born,
Anticipate that all the change may not be for the better,
But after all, not the results, but the perception matters.
Ill will had put me in control,
I would’ve left, but where would I go,
Ill will had put me in control,
I would’ve left, but I can’t find my home.
In light of an absence, the thoughts still feel possessed,
Unchained by the root cause, the core still detests,
And the mind gives in slowly, to each and every attempt,
To be here, reminded where all pain has stemmed.
In all but name, I can’t remain, I can’t embrace the past,
If all was fine, at a latter point, repeat, it couldn’t last,
A self-proclaimed man at peace has been completely shattered,
The ancient one has left the shrine, a moth he has fathered.
Ill will had put me in control,
I would’ve left, but where would I go,
Ill will had put me in control,
I would’ve left, but I can’t find my home.
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