The gatekeeper warned me
To enter beyond the perimeter
would be my own demise
Once in the bowels of Hell
you lose all sense of self
They are a mere existence
direct consequence
to punching love
Ghosts
living on the edge
of the abyss
One foot in
one foot out
So close
they can still
hear the Hell hounds shout
As the fresh bruises heal
their breath is given out
for another to steal
Clawing hands always
reaching out
deathly grasp
wanting to hear the
death rattle
the strong shackle
I'll extend a hand in
hoping one will reach & grab
Allowing the pull
out of the dreary
weary
constant
drab
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