Staring at this blank page,
Such a contrast to my mind,
The emptiness of one all that the other wants to find.

Putting pen to paper,
Once brought a pure release,
What freedom it still offered though at some point had to cease.

Ink was my catharsis,
My therapy for life,
This escape in each line now just another bitter strife.

Could there be another,
Some new way to relieve,
I cannot bring my heart to hope or soul to dare believe.

Darkness is yet growing,
No will to keep the fight,
My time is fast approaching to give in and face the night.

Peace was not my calling,
The page not meant to turn,
And so this chapter closes with no hope of return.

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