Don't tell me if I'm dying.
Dying of what is meant to come, the unavoidable. Death speaks for itself, no one wants it. But is is a pure reality.
Cold fingertips to the rusted movements of chilled bones. Somethings just make me feel at home. The strong chemical smell of the stains of removal. It removes the truth and brings the lies. It's bring the visions of what is there. The sounds of furious rain hits me like a heat wave. Angry, ready to kill at any moment.
You can't fake words that were from your soul. Do souls exist?
Did you notice? People, trying to bring you into reality, listen. They are speaking. You speak, we speak, we listen, you judge. Negativity will get us nowhere. Optimism, a lovely components of something, everything, all of who you think you are.
I won't tell you that I love. I'm bluffing. Fold, the river has nothing in store for you. One day you'll see yourself here, knowing you don't deserve it. Washed up waste of talent.
Caught in between 10 and 20.
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