chapter 41: 'lost'

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I'm sick of feeling like this,

Like there's a pit in my stomach,

Where nothing will fit,


Never full or satisfied,

I question,

Whether I already died,


For my limbs are heavy and my eyelids drop,

The world won't stop spinning,

And I'd just like it to stop,

- or slow down, that's all I ask!

Give me enough time,

To find a way and get back,


For in these woods, all the trees are the same,

Playing tricks on my mind,

'till I forget my name,


The moon has come,

It observes as I'm undone,


There's a figure in the dark,

When it flees,

It takes with it my spark,


Something grips my arm,

So I cry and I scream,

But no one hears my alarm,

That's when I see, that,

Its my own guilt and hate,

What did me so much harm,

And covered my mouth with my own bloody hand.

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