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I feel so sick I'm floating in the air My feet is walking all over me My head wants to explode My hands are in the air I'm drowning in despair My soul is moving fast
A brush of his plumps makes thy drown in thought. Savoring sweets off thy flesh though aren't dame. Melting in cold hands one's soul does not rot. Embracing, peering at movement in frame.
Suffocation, suffocation Why must you be? Must you be so vast and prevent me from seeing? Tight grips on my neck Back against the wall What will I do?