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ℜ𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔖𝔱𝔦𝔠𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔪𝔰 𝔄 𝔤𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔟 𝔒𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔬𝔱𝔱𝔬𝔪 𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔣 𝔒𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔤𝔢 ℑ𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔴𝔢 𝔰𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔢'𝔡 𝔡𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔈𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔨𝔢𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔉𝔢𝔟𝔯𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔶 ℭ𝔶𝔫𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔞𝔴𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔭𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫
The wails of the damned cry out Drowning the fragile, the unspoken Bloodcurdling screeches echo throughout A symphony conducted by commotion Stealing the voice of the broken, a voice of doubt
There is no denying it, she was first I imagine her next to you, your arm wrapped around her As it had once been wrapped around me Sometimes I wish I were a less kind soul
You'll have to forgive me for being stoic. But things won't work out, and I know it. When you offered me the trip of dreams, When my success you're quick to deem Imminent and sure,
it's funny how the people you love can be the ones you hate the most
Manmade stars seen through ash shadows blanketing this city made numb, the unmaking of man, thread unwinding from its spool too quick to remember.
My Ars Poetica: A Different Kind of Animal Nothing turns a stomach like the rancid aura that cradles the furry carcass of a life that once was.
A cynic will tell you that the world is on its way to disaster. He'll tell you that everyone is only in it for themselves.
I won’t always be your one and onlyThis love was always meant to expireI know this may come off a bit coldlyBut I know that someday we will tire
Trust me, you don’t want to know The thought that just flew through my head A game of quid pro quo with the status quo This cache of nostalgia makes my dread drop dead I keep craving for resolution
Take me back upon a hill, an imagery time of inconsequential deals, where love is blind, and hate is enforced, and all you can think of is substantial divorce. Oh the agony, the agony of time
I think about you everyday.
I'm a tiny little fish In a great big pond And before you fucking know it, I'm up and gone. So many memories, Not many of them good. This place was such a joke, Now I'm off
(My creative writing teacher asked us what our dream job was when we were kids. This was mine.)
There are these thoughts that enter the realm of my mind It’s a dark place, my mind. But somehow it is always en-lightened by the most sorrowful notion.