The Past


I have no fear of the future
for it's the past that holds this
imprisoned soul.
Curling tendrils of memory
staunch and suffocate,
some misted, some stark charred,
burn where they touch.
Tying painful knots, cracked
but holding still.
Paint peeling festering sores
locked away, breaking free
to haunt.

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byUnderYourSpell© 1 comments/ 2177 views/ 0 favorites

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by Anonymous

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