GripA Poem by bathtime
The depths of darkness hold me tight
I pray that I can sleep tonight The scratching sounds inside my head Make me wish I'll soon be dead No one seems to understand I cannot just stop and stand Up, and get out of bed This disease will be my end I hold on tight and try to breathe My soul just wants to be free I can't allow it to take control For if I do, I'll be no more. © 2015 bathtimeReviews
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3 Reviews Added on September 1, 2015 Last Updated on September 8, 2015 AuthorRelated WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
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