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It is my greatest struggle that mocks me
To be at a distance of this pleasurable question
mark, a rose that I have yet to flatter, in this scene
that is now haunting.
Is it the mystery of your soft appeal, breathing in
this heinous reality that solicits my quest?
If so, how could I not advance before death?
For it is from envious, that I’ve witnessed this negative
Perhaps I can shatter this wall of illusion before we
waste ourselves into demise, and with an existence beyond
this one-dimensional scent, we can dispel the devils air of
confusion, and be released from our sinful absence.
Finally, with envious tendencies forever answered, we’ll
rejoice in the contrast of regret, and be reborn as one
flesh, immune from living in this blunt separation entitled life.
I pray that angels follow my envious passion into tomorrows