Thursday

Suffix: -cide

Wrested from my sanity
I crumple towards calamity

Onward movement. The trudge, I trudge.
Deeper down. The gouge, I gouge.

Centered on a poignant peak,
Looking for the one I seek.
Withdrawn, the will of life grows weak.
How can the blind sun shine so bleak?

In the chasm; spiral down I drown.
My silent screams; held in sound I sound.

Let me reach the precipice
To fall, to find, to feel that peace.

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