A shadow is enshrined in my flesh Haunting my every collapse An emotional relic that I cannot discard My depth is malignant, thrashing inside- A blunt-force trauma that cannot be denied My brain operates in a system of self-slaughter And all that my neurons can produce are memories Of a generational error The bruises thereafter seized a sect of my spirit And every hysteric outlash is an offspring of it Malevolent child of my womb, Can you be exorcized? My inner child is unforgiving, And it is the intention behind the wound that needs to be revised Repulsed and nourished on regret, Nothing is as successful as a spiritual bloodletting, Outpour of my sinister soul My mind is a relic, cherished gallery of gore And the raving is relentless There is no means to sever it And in a psychiatric suburbia Mental ward of muse I surrender once again An eternal victim to the echo of abuse Sincerely, Dharma Bum Poetess
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