they will not escape like a deathshroud draped over my struggling hands, tearing, claustrophobic, to be free or as free as can be, at least. A cease, a peace, that's all I seek and to peek out from beneath the shealth where I'm sheltered and kept drowned in tears that I've wept oceans that swept me away days ago. My own worst foe; this much I know, in the fight to break out and face the light or the dark or whatever awaits in terms of my fate beyond the gate of this fiercesome self-hate that needs to abate, especially of late- I debate
concentrate
