this circle
of my own
an unexplainable existence
awarded to me by force
in forced breaths
feeding another moment
The pungent scent of an end
beckons loud
of my lone
an unsavoury acceptance
served to me in tones
by passing moments
bleeding my soul
This me has nothing to be than
an unbearable load
to have and to hold
a meaningless shell
existing in a paradox
on nothing but hope
of fading into the unknown
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