Since I was but a child, I bled, A twisted tether pulling threads of dread. From four, I wore this shackle tight, A silent scream within the night. It gnawed, it pulled, it dragged me down, A ghost that haunted every sound. Through endless years, I drowned in grief, Trapped in a web, beyond belief. I sought to flee, but the chains would burn, Each fleeting hope began to turn. The walls would close, the air would choke, And every breath felt like a joke. I scream in silence, lost and torn, A soul worn thin, forever scorned. Each day a battle, every breath a plea, To rid myself of what enslaves me. Yet somewhere deep, a flicker stirs, A distant light that softly purrs. Can I escape this hellish grip? Or will I falter, lose my grip? The scars are etched, the wounds are raw, Each scar a story, each pain a law. But still, I rage against this fate, Hoping someday, it’s not too late. For though despair has made me weak, A shattered soul begins to seek. Can I break free, or will I fall? The answer lies within the call.