Filled by what fills void,
emptied by what fills the heart,
completed by what was meant to finish,
and finished by what had to start.

Loved by who the world betrayed,
killed by who already died,
found by who had never searched,
drained by who had never cried.

Burnt by what has turned to ashes,
ignited by what lights the dark,
scarred by what embraced the soul,
healed by what had left the mark.

Broken by hands that built,
rebuilt by those that hold the knife,
life has played this game with me,
and killed me all my life.

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