Trapped in this world of blood and slaughter She rests waiting his recovery. Breed Warmth into these wastes! Longing for the heart. Broken lands in dire thirst. The wounds cut to deep. You are the fruit that no one cared for they only wanted you to grow to feed their needs. That's what they call a living. This miasma will swallow us whole... Wait for the red skies Wait for the full crest dipped in gold The voices Won't stop this hope for recovery algorithms of shadow and noir compel this eve of blight. The witching hour approaches Smiling with the sun shining on me as we partake to the moon and front her wishes. Here I lay with this corpse you belong in, the feeling of air stagnant, as the marrow in those lungs turns dry and cold. Non-existence is a flower we all feed with lies and neglegance.in time the denial blooms to an overpowering lust and hunger for more decadence. Gazing into the truth won't harm you, allow acceptance to hinder and care for all you know For carelessness will be replaced with love and understanding Inject those beliefs straight into your brain. Because mercy is dead.
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