The Trap

January 12, 2012
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The trap has cold iron bars,
That hold me as a prisoner.
They remind me of an unhealed scar,
But I am my only listener.

I fight all I can and try to resist,
But nothing breaks it’s top.
I’m just left hopelessly to exist,
Wishing to myself for it to stop.

Pushing away from its tight clasp,
I ask the trap to be kind.
And let me free from its harm grasp,
But the trap is simply my own mind.

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