A soul lined with scars

Harden tissue covering the raw nerves

Picking at the point

Opening up the wound

The thoughts that consume

Burning across the synapses

That misfire sparking

Gaps in the sensation

Of contemplation

That leave only isolation and solitude

To reflect the attitude

Of apathy that inhabits the world of existence

It considers penance

For a life of half measures

And forgotten treasures

Of a past held inside

Because the truth will hide

The loss of innocence


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