Wounds

There are wounds that do not bleed blood,

But instead it seeped ambition, innocence, sanity, and dreams,
Wounds that drained the now empty circuits of my brain,
Wounds that slowly seeped from within, incited confusion, headache, insomnia, pain,
Wounds that neither god nor men, 
Could possibly mend,
Wounds that takes away your emotions,
Your sight, your breath, your hearing,
Wounds that killed you but keeps you living,
Kept you alive to feel as every echo bounces around your now empty shell,
Bellowing in the narrow halls of your consciousness,
As it subjugates your life in a living hell,

These wounds are mine,
To be taken to my deathbed,
To be felt, and never to be left behind.

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