Poetry / Binds

I grow tired of my present binds,
I’m sick of repeating these lines.
I’ve paid the fines for my past crimes,
Why am I still doing time.
Bound and broken, falling from what I am.
I’ve got to find a better way,
   then to sit and rot within this decay.
Stained,
   the darklight flows from within.
Good intensions tainted with sin.
I can’t win,
   when the grouind is caving in.

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