The seconds tick past like minutes,
as I pace these hardwood floors.
Busy feet tarnish their finish,
another day I'm still at war.
They tell me keep on fighting,
but the bullets bend and break.
In the living rooms dim lighting,
I sit here half awake.
I think of how I got here,
this place is a living hell.
My mind has been my prison,
for months I've walked this cell.
Every voice a new incision,
until it festers and it scars.
I sit here and I listen,
as they tear my world apart.

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