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The Lost Get Found

I feel weak,
as I’m staring into the face of a heartless stranger,
that’s come to drown me in a never ending life of solitude.
I’ve tackled this faceless monster before without a trace of victory.
I continue to fall down the pitted hole of darkness,
without a single pair of arms to console me.
I appear to look contained on the outside;
nobody can see the bleeding mess that’s confined.
For it’s veiled away from within.
At the darkest hour,
misery elopes around my already frail existence,
making it harder to breathe in the potent fragrance of hope.
Hope that has been soiled,
and has now turned stale.
I’ve been considered the walking blind for far too long.
I’m on my knees now,
no longer able to neither run nor walk.
I continue to look this familiar stranger dead in the eyes,
mustering up my remaining strength I’ve been holding on to.
Refusing to back down,
I rest my tiresome hands on the ground,
and begin to crawl towards the flagrant light.
With each struggling stride,
I’m growing stronger.

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