Within this world, there is so much hate.
Love is found as a jewel lain, buried in silt.
A glimpse of good among the slate gray.
Its gleam is chosen, its time, purposeful.
And the more I search and dig,
the farther beyond my reach it slips
and the shorter my breath becomes.
The struggle is endearing
but is unwarranted
and unrewarded.
All I am looking for is an outlet,
as these walls are seamless
and ever approaching,
encroaching.
My lungs are fighting,
senses are struggling to cope,
convulsing.
The faster you go,
the faster chase it gives.
Always one door slamming
in front of me.
One turn ahead.
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