The perfect life

Scattered as always,

Shattered as always

They torment me

and make me hostage.

To speak would mean to use words.

They betray me at every single step.

They release my thoughts and make me handicapp.

Several times I have been at the mercy of others.

To know they can do and you cannot, bothers.

To write would mean to leave a proof.

If they read it, they will know.

Words, then wont be the only thing I will fear.

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