The Haunter's shame



This is our story,

the episodes of our slavery.

In our tale,

the Haunter is the hero.

He is the winner.

 

We dream of snares,

we lived in prisons.

In the high walls of our Haunter,

We buried our hope.

I particularly, married the chains.

 

Breakfast at sunset,

sunset at noonday.

Maybe we were wired for sorrow.

Born for grief.

Our Haunter's delight.

 

Here is a wonder,

The Haunter's is ashamed.

We have learned the rules.

Embraced the burden of freedom.

For all our stripes, we bleed life.




 

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