Murderous

a broken thing
left alone
in the cobwebs and shadows
it stirs
with dying memories
of a smile
that once set the world afire
the strings that bind it
to the smoke of suffering
are fragile and frail
like promises and prayers
but escape is not even a concept
that swims through the waters of her mind
chains of sorrow and regret
painfully bind
every thought
of freedom

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There are things in the shadows.