Wound

Silence in midnight

Nothing moves, no one moans

Alone in my world

Sharp steely clutches

Coldly shackling

Piercing within

Unseen bleeding

Hemorrhaging soul

How to heal?

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Haunted

In middle age

Life’s thought to have freedom

Independence of decisions

Actions done in own volition

Accomplishments in line

Laurels on head held high

Celebrating friends nearby

Yet left alone

One’s moaning past returns

With wet eyes swelling

And wounded heart bleeding

Transforms you once more

Into a  torn helpless child

Then there’s a battle to win.