I’m a broken ship,
Sail stuck in a bottle,
Torn horizontally,
Bleeding air.
I’m the drunken fighter,
Brain fogged up,
Punching into voids,
Pain pulsating through.
I’m a fallen soldier,
Gunshots in my ears,
Blood in my eyes,
Death in my mind.
I’m an empty book,
Pages made of plastic,
Blank, cheap.
But then again, I’m me,
A name, an entity,
A wave of calm acceptance,
A whirlpool of rejection.
I’m without a soul,
Tied up in a bow of satin,
A gift to someone else,
A gift to someone else.

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