The darkness that hugs the outside,

It is blacker than emptiness.

It is more pure than cleanliness.

The eyes that almost hide,

They are closer than I wish.

They are floating like dead fish.

The fear that strangles my insides,

It is stronger than instinct.

It is quicker than I think.

The doom that consumes my mind,

It is heavier than sin.

It is more potent than gin.

The pain that renders me blind,

It singes every last nerve.

It causes consciousness to swerve.

The bed in which myself I find,

It is drenched in perspiration.

It is soaked with inspiration.

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