Twisted memories

of a muddy past.

Too near, too recent.

Scars on my skin

and bleeding wounds

are still there.

Evil symbols of a debacle.

I’ve seen my life collapsing

on deserts of rotten carcasses

and dry bones.

On towers of sorrow

a howling wind of rage

froze the blood in my veins,

and a scary hatred ground

my will into specks of submission.

I was death-aholic.

I got lost in rooms of oblivion.

Outside there was hell,

inside a stunned escapism.

Nevertheless the same scars and wounds

remind me when sun burst again in my life.

Just thinking about it

my head hangs down and I cry

………………..for joy

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