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By Ben Sanchez

Gasping for breath,

My essence stifled by the weight of my harrowed thoughts.

Before the mirror, I stand,


The anxious reflection of my transfiguration unsettling my soul.

Buried in shattered aspirations,

A lonely architect of this chaos,

Yet I fall on my knees,

Plead for redemption.

Countless times I've dwindled,

Far removed from when destiny seemed cradled in my palm,

Now I’m enslaved in a ceaseless nightmare,

A cruel tutor of my myriad failures.

Errant paths led to my downfall,

A bed of thorns scaring me,

Reminding me of my missteps,

Haunting me with a relentless whisper of past horrors,

Spawned from choices of ill-made.

As the final act looms,

I concede to the inevitable denouement,

Yet, even in deaths quiet grasp,

My regrets, undyingly cling to me tenaciously.


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