I’m past that stage,
last that rage,
had me trapped,
in a cage,
for too long.

So fast for that age,
that page burns maimed,
ripped it out,
for an unheard,

Tamed under,
an underhanded wrong,
as if the wrist of fate.

Was too fucking strong,
sinking with the current,
thinking I didn’t belong.


reclaiming status,
leaving that fake love,
sealing a fate sating me in every way,
let them hate us since we created us:
separated from that pattern of grey.

a concentrated proportion,
torn off that haunts us,
same drizzle, just a different day;
that’s not okay and i have the bows,
to tie up your rain,

into your soul,

your ether,
come what may.

ink is free, so...

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