My hands and feet have seen the war.
My chest and head have felt some love.
My legs and arms have sought for truth.
All of these have served me well but
I still get lost in the knots of my soul.
I climb the rope to the top
only to find I must start again.
Sometimes those knots come loose and
drop me to the ground.
Everytime I am down my eyes prove their dominance.
No matter my dislike they always crawl for you.
Like my demons they always seem to win.
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