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Scourge

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I found the affliction
deep in my bed;
no sleep for angels
and no devils dead.

Made an infliction
to block out the chill,
but no comfort in Heaven,
no green pastures or hills.

Found in Admission
a comfort so still
that idle hands itched
and stashed all the pills.

One day, I shattered
and took ‘em all straight;
doctors took care
not a second too late.

Again: the sharp fix,
my own tears I ate
and devils and demons
showed me my hate.

My own scars confessed me --
progress: flow’rs dead;
wrapped in isolation
forced rest ‘till it bled.

Met a man in freedom
community for sure;
saw the scars on his arms;
lone night next a blur.

Then tried to kill the voices
tripping in my head;
reached out for pain --
found hope instead.



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xXRedNotesXx said...
Jul. 11, 2011 at 1:34 pm
One of my favorites! I love love love it!!!
 
inkers This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Jul. 11, 2011 at 10:39 pm
Thank you! :) <3
 
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