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His Soul

His Soul
So dark, cold, and eerie is it,
but I clung to it with dear life.
fear of loss thickens in my mind,
so I clung to it with dear life.
BUT IT WAS SO COLD!
The very thought makes me shiver,
makes me wince,
makes every single freaking hair stand on the back of my neck.
But I clung to it with dear life.
Dark
Oh oh so dark.
My hands disappear,
I couldn't seem to find my way,
my life
OR EVEN MY FREAKING VOICE!
But, still, I clung to it with dear life.
BUT STILL, I CLUNG TO IT WITH DEAR LIFE!
WHY DID I CLING TO IT WITH DEAR LIFE!?
~The Recovering

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
Please use care (this is a sensitive subject for me, do not critique harshly)
Review Request (Direction): 
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
This poem is about my realization of my attachment to my abuser at the time (my father)
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Explicit Content

Comments

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