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The Spell
Mind itself is unfair,
Stuck within pace of breathe,
Trying to unleash but invain,
Screaming wouldn't help it seems,
Bleeding in the four chambers,
Dark horsemen rides by,
The path is blurred,
Mediocre is what supposed to be,
Lay along with corpses is intended,
Hopes all down,
Rain never stops,
Numb in all its corners,
Mind itself is unfair.



© Tekasangba walling