PART 1

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I stare into the abyss of a future created by the demons of depression,
It is not reality; it not will happen,
And yet as I cling to the precipice of sanity, it is all I can see:
A nightmare that roams in the day consuming the green meadows of springtime,
It saps the passion of the blood and fills my veins with ice,
My heart pounds in rebellion, confined within the cage of my chest,
Yet I move not,
The very things that would set me free I am denied,
Hope is consumed by the illusion of despair,
For it is not real and it is not real,
You are a liar granting me tittles and names that are not mine to keep,
I am not worthless or weak or crazy but for year lechery,
You are a parasite feeding off My life energy,
Consuming the power of my dreams.

You are a murderer and my soul is your mark,
Locked into your arena, you call on me to shield,
To proclaim you the Victor,
To give up,
But you will not last,
You will not steal this day, and so I fight against my own mind
I name them, I know them and again I rise
Sapped but still standing
Weakend but stronger than thug
For as I walk through your illusion, into the present that is present,
I will again find hope and joy,
And you shall be vanquished back to the depths of the pit in which you dwell.

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