I’m trapped fighting within these walls of treason, this routine became embanked and forward to a stand still. I felt a joyless circumference wash over my entire self, my eyes watered from the moisture of doubt with a pinch of selfish indignation. It’s the operative word, in a final swing as it closes in with a fictitious swallow. Silence is encouraged, you are to drown in your own decadent swamp. It was created to press us, making us doubt our own wills from a soulful yet blissful adventure. The gun pointed at your temple, would you flee or fight as they pursued. It came from a solo banking, in wonder of a trolley that was just a few miles from home again.
If you guys would like, in the future leave ideas for titles on my Poems. I would be happy to use them, and I will give you the added benefit of showcasing your blog on my page!! 😉
Creator And Contributor- Chris Ballenger
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