The Cycle of Self-Deceit

I seek to act, yet trapped in chains,
Caught in the blur of endless strive,
A yearning spirit lost in pains—
I move, but never feel alive.
Deceitful hope does softly weave,
A promise empty, yet I grieve.
The heart I hold, in false delight,
Awaits joy’s bloom, though it’s not real.
Self-hate constrains, no will to fight,
While soothing lies to sleep appeal.
A cycle spins, no end to heal.
I am trapped in the cycle of hate,
Struggling to act, yet bound in fear,
Futile action, a doomed, endless fate.
Desire to move, but I disappear,
Caught in a web of my own despair,
Pretending joy, though none is near.
I deceive myself with empty dreams,
My heart lulled by false comfort’s call,
Promising joy but feeling seams—
Yet the lies I tell will make me fall,
Trapped forever in this hollow thrall.

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