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Im about to
I’m about to throw my life into this defenseless jagged racket of misery…
I have seen the scars too many times; I only remember being a mystery…
Look at this mirror… This face is not of gold, it’s not of gold, it’s not of gold…
I’m about to yank this rope of my flawless imperfection until I choke on my spit…
This disguise is not working for anyone, greeting Mr. Reaper in the vengeful cold…
Such a misfortune, all the time that has been wasted on my Destruction…
Bias released this smoky pasture just for my cradle of non-handling greed…
Unrelenting segmental malfunction on the gateway of my lost creed…
So long ago, I rest; waiting; and waiting; and waiting… waiting on a cure…
Waiting for so long, to figure there is no cure…
I laugh; bitter with gentle whips…
Against one’s regretful back…
Don’t look back…
Take that…
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