I keep myself busy to hear no sound,
To cut myself off from the world around,
For the thoughts in my head are no rosy pink,
I cannot get in my bed a cozy wink.

Try as I might just to see the stars,
In my own mind I reside behind bars,
Clouded by fear of the future unknown,
My eyes only see history alone.

A darkness that begins to devour,
My fragile heart that is a flower,
Petals slowly blown away by the wind,
I wonder if ever I have sinned.

So I occupy myself from all these
Intrusive tempers thrown into the breeze,
The demons atrocious shall not taint me,
No slovenly brush shall ever paint me.

For through the ashes I shall still grow,
Above, not below, my soul shall go,
I keep myself busy to battles prevent,
My moral compass has been God-sent.

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