Brittle than the broken glass
Colder than the darkest night,
Forever in my eternal fight
Lies my soul in grated chalice;
Chained in my thoughts
Restrained by my ideals,
Screams my soul to be free
To go on a freedom spree;
Stained by my past
Rusted with time,
Will it ever last
The sentence another time;
Here lie its shattered pieces
Waiting for a healing touch,
Desperate in all its senses
Without life in it as such
—Raavan
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