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Fade Fencing Voices

Greg Prince
2 min readJun 2, 2019

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Departing from despondency.

Silence taking its toll.
Cold surrounding my soul.
Serving flawed masters, pulling my strings.
Word unfeeling, trashing my role.

Father can you hear me.
Mother not near.

Emptiness promising salvation vague and unclear.
Don’t come close.
Flee, get away.
Voices torture haunting my future.
No tomorrow, no today

Holding.
Restraining.
Limiting.
Let me go.

Killing sunsets on repeated failure.
Easy quitting no longer an option.
Fire raging inside.
Desperation pushing me
Clinging to old comforts.
Chipping at hurtful foundations.
Clipping the strings.
Can’t rely any longer on them to hide.

Answers piercing with sharp barbs.
Darkness whispering strangling enticing dirges.
Tired fading rest sounds sweet.
End falling near.

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Greg Prince

Bringing real feelings along with messages of inspiration and imagination to life. Awakening is the symptom of my infectious condition. Poetry is my condition.