Pits
The outer expression of hatred comes from the depth of my past,
Eating the love shown and shined on me and captured by the pitiful memories,
Each day is mourned, never healing but pressing out the brokenness,
In the pit of my hate, the encapsulated heart beats to the uneven beat.
No one can began to imagine the pain bestowed upon me,
How my life was rushed to a standstill before the time needed,
Childhood stolen by the silent truth of this world's reality,
Never to be received nor seen again.
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