The Pressure

I feel their many hands
Clamouring onto my feet
Hear the gnashing of their teeth
And in my mind the anxieties of their souls they do speak

Air thick with the hunger for freedom
Begging me for salvation
The lamentations of the ones who cannot speak
Seek me like pilgrims seek enlightenment

But why do these dark souls clamouring at my feet, now hanging onto my legs
Ask for spilt blood as their release fee?

My legs are getting tired now.
My soul would like to just be.

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