Wounds

Today it feels as if I am living within a tomb
Dark, hollow, desperately lonely, and afraid
For the wind blows little air through this chamber of woe
Yet the cauldron that is my mind bubbles furiously, almost angrily
Emotions burning and churning yet never rising in steam
Scarring the membranes of my head as reminders of the past
Scars, wounds, cuts too deep to be cured without sign
Which would parade defiantly if ever were given the chance

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