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and there isn't a moon for me to dwell there isn't even a silence, to so easily compell but an eerie noise, with a mystical spell shining from the depths, of the longest well that stems to the ground, releasing it's smell deadening everything around but never loosens the ground no one looked, but no one found no one heard, but they listened to the sound but they mystified the spell, and they're hatred started to mound toward an entity, that they couldn't see they couldn't smell, but felt to infinity they delt they're wounds, and tied the community but when they looked back they didn't deal immunity they heard the ground the fear of missed continuity with the flowers of hatred exposed and weakness dampened on their clothes regaining sence, and feeling composed feeling each other when each one disposed the threat of another who dare opposed the reaching of the moon has just begun they reached for the handle, and it slowly spun spun their brains, and fired the gun that does the make, that hits someone but leaves when he see's what he's undone as he close his eyes it refuses to see and never will it again it won't do it again he meant to let it all slip away he's abadoned, what do expect from this creature the death of ones demise constructs the deal, of anothers life we can't deny the death of an inside inside the death, all we find is more life .. more life and when it hits the end, and all you see is your blood .. i'll spell it out for you no more life if one feels but never touches how would one feel at all?.. how would one never get too tired to deal with the everyday bullshit things that doesn't calm anyone down you have to know the problem before you can make it complicated can't you accept fear?.. and not trust in a tear make back up, and take another steer maybe then, the shape will come clear. Post a comment in response: |
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