The Guessing Game


Caught up
In the middle
Hanging by a thread
The coexisting
of being alive and dead

I woke up
a lost soul
burdened with such dread
not to feel,
and being numb instead

makes me weary
enough I have bled
For the many
loveless days
I have torturously led

screaming echoes
of all the things unsaid
of right and wrong;
poison tears I shed

I am
Schrödinger’s cat
a demon in your head
The clock ticking
to decide
Will I be alive or dead?


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