To face your mind, the question presented

Your scent gone,
My cure to ease the troubled mind,
Left to my senses,
The corrosive thoughts that lingers inside.

A prisoner of yore,
Chained to the rock of my own demise,
That light that made me warm,
Now fills some other hearts.

How long shall I stay,
A prisoner of my own disguise,
The mask once worn,
You clearly saw behind.

To lay and blame myself?
Or to rise above?
Blame I only knew,
Until the question some voice asked.

How long can a man suffer,
What more punishment to take?
By beating your heart
with your own hand,
What is your real desire?
To climb above? Or to break?

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