Like a captor’s hold, it gripped me with great trepidation.
The claws of death my soul it held.
Just like a criminal with so great a dedication,
To the slaughter I was led.
All hopes shattered, only soul battered,
I’ve finally gone around the bend.
With an empty Pandora box, nothing else mattered.
Behold! Herein is my end.
What is left? Tell me, what remains?
A dry husk, an empty shell.
Where hot blood once pumped through my veins,
True cold has come to dwell.
Tears bleed from fissures in my soul,
From cracks within my core;
Draining out all that makes me whole
Till I can cry no more.
A shadow of former self, I feel the searing pain.
Emaciated, with callused hands and building fears.
Like Pan, I’ve faded with no gain.
What’s a life filled with anxiety and dread.
On me is placed the devil’s coals,
It burned me like Lucifer’s abode till I am red.
To futility it caused all my goals.
Am I not better off dead?
Weeping willows, sing me a dirge.
Sing of sweet dreams come to ruin.
Sing, of one who teeters on the edge.
Of numbing sorrow genuine.
Sing of hollow emptiness.
Sing of grief that doth impale.
As I, this yawning void, traverse,
Sing, I pray thee, sing my tale.
? *M .J Mojisola Josephine*
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