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Cliche
The darkness in my soul entraps me in a tomb of solitude and plunges me into an abyss
  Where the tatters of my heart lay broken 
 Until a solitary ray of light pierces through the veil
  Behind the curtain of denial
 The light shines with the vibrancy of a mirror,
  And shows the duality of myself smiling
 From the other side
  While the self that is me writhes in agony
 The mirror shatters and the shards are like needles
 Caressing the me who is not I,
 Or the she who is me cries and disappears 
 And with her she takes the light
  And with the light, hope
 Now I lay and bleed with utter chaos and mayhem
 Raging through my soul
 As I sink into the oblivion…
 Or do I?
 Is this how I really feel?
 Or, is this merely a cliché of every deep and dark feeling that courses through emotional poetry like blood running through veins?
 Impossibly combined with the soul scathing words that are at odds with each other and the world.
 Is this how I feel, or is this just a shallow attempt to convince you that my heart is as black as my hair?

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