Schwarze Wand (Black Wall)

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From whence comest the Wall which blocks my soul;
Impassable wrought iron; a Titan, to keep me whole?
Ever clawing for the pool of Acheron, whose darkness at my core lies breathing,
Silent, the Wall stands, though I plague it, enraged, screaming and seething.
Have I cast it upon myself, a barrier laid to guide me in some past life,
Or have the Gods seen the vile within me, bound it tight, so not to release it's strife?
Heart beating to serve humanity; the Witch, the Oracle, a Healer helpless herself to cure,
Does my Wall, such irony, protect, does it stand the watch to keep me somewhat pure?
Do horrors await me behind it's incorporeal frame; does it hide misery untold?
Fear quakes to the bone at the query, yet does my mind wonder, and still I make bold.
I long to breach that hymen of my psyche, ache to sink soul-deep into that virginal pool of black,
Would that I could saturate every pore in it's secrets, but always that Wall beareth me back.

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