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Sometimes you fall, spinning through space, grasping for the things that keep you here.
Your patience is disintegrating into irradiated...
[ You are not born from the heart of a gaucherie...
A song smeared with the rigid ache of a stagnancy,
blinded by the blissful damage in a euphoric...
Your complacent ego masked with prudent vanity,
watching me with a icy glare of your eyes...
Gremlin lines of obscured heresy,
whispered in the muted abyss of tortured lips...
Plethora of lies estranged from the insipid stare...
taunting my tender sentiments and our porcelain...
Inferiority is a timeless disease.
You saved me in my dreams just to hurt me in reality..
It's such a sacred place, the land of dreams.
by Quietly Versed