Those Little Demons

merge these errors into a single block dump like rubble on the next cliff run away before hearing the dry thud of defects sprawling on the ground claiming its author. because self indulgence saves fake whatever like when you disguise look around awkwardly wanting to get rid of contamination brought by the uncomfortable truths that knocked on your door or at that time remember? you acted with hypocrisy and prejudice then you lied to yourself saying it was nothing you were right it wasn't really me I was never that bad. the standard of self-pity obeys a rite of pseudo surprise acts like camphor ointment relieves the hidden pain but you know she is there smiling little demon about to laugh and make you submerge in an ocean where shame is the first virtue to disappear.