A poem i wrote when i was in the darkest of holes.

Torture

These downbeat intentions were just a concept from the devil inside my mind

I swore to the world, i tried to leave him behind

but how could one do such a thing, when this pessimist called a devil was really just me;

weighed down by my own hand, slandered by my own words i became a wingless bird; pressured to fly

And so i flew hoping not to die.

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