There is a place that I call my own,
it is very dark.. as I am not alone
I go there each and every day,
For it is not by choice I find my way
I am drug there by chains that bind
Reliving horror, that cloud my mind
I feel as though my life’s on hold
Imprisoned by what claims my soul
For my life is but a tangled weave
I fear this place I may never leave.
Exhausted from this troubled storm
My darkness, my dungeon, my trials off scorn.
Antony King © 2018

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