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Where am I going? A cold wall The floor is moist Water was drained Pure water, tainted Sewage in the mixture  
My days sim a little dimmer than they use to be The cold, dark clouds seek refuge in my heart I ask why I even bother to get up Because out of the darkness, there is in fact a light That tunnel runs from me
Ever so still Breathing slowly In and out But nothing  At all Seems to come From your heart Icy frozen Deep inside Nothing breaks The hard shell Inside is air
I weave, thrive and twist in the tunnel of wind Thrashing me forward, he winds me up as a toy Unbounded, he twists me still and steals my jacket In this tunnel of wind I stand, sit and wretch
The tunnel in front of me glows calling for me
I hate this feeling. The feeling of hitting your breaking point. You're so broken and shattered on the inside. How can it get any worse? But then it does. And you feel like you can cry an ocean, and drown in your own painful tears.
Tunnel vision here Not much seen From my bit of Earth
Inspire me beloved poetry, surrounded in nothingness, alone and lonely, no place to call home but hell, but if hell is my realm then what next may come, asked I the suicidal bastard son,
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