What are these shackles wrapped around my soul
So tightly that I cannot draw a breath?
This struggle deep within to keep control;
It wears me down til I have nothing left.
Try as I might, I cannot seem to find
The words to fit the feelings that abide
Within the cloudy regions of my mind.
What if there's nothing left of me inside?
Am I composed of places that I've been,
Or am I made of things that have been done?
What if I find in going back again,
A maze I can't explain to anyone?
Who am I, what is me, do I belong?
Have I been masquerading all along?
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