The Test You don't know how it feels, To be imprisoned in an emotional chamber full of fear, Gated with iron knives, So if you try to get out, they dig deep into your skin, soul, and feed off of your fear. Making you bleed, Cry for help, Breaking yourself down to almost nothing, It's a door away from hell, and you can never get out. Seeing you at it's corridors, Waiting with the knife that will finish me off, Dancing through my skin and blood, But killing me so soft. To end all pain, With pain, Killing a #life off, Shrieking trying to strain. I give the gun a cock. These temptations show me faithful, To see if I persevere, I take up my torture stake, And show no Acknowledgment to fear.
Bree
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