Thoughts coil around my mind,
Not chains—no, chains can be broken.
These are roots, tangled deep,
Threaded through marrow,
Anchored in places I cannot reach.
I pull. They tighten.
I resist. They hold.
Every struggle feeds them,
Every breath is barbed wire in my lungs.
My own making binds me,
Trapped between what is real
And what my mind refuses to release.
I chase clarity, but it...
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