All I see are bleak and dare reflections,
A lifeless shell, driven by pain, hatred and grief,
Paleness, my constant whore of trepidation,
Trapped by every single breath.
Drowning in a sea of desperation,
Darker than the direst botom of my mind,
Fading among black observing silence,
I can't breathe or bray, it's so cold...
it's so cold...
Torment every day,
Through blankness, pitch black monotony.
An endless increasing haze,
of neverending increasing anxiety.
And towards every further dawn,
with an iron sphere chained to my feet,
I approach the bottom of the sea,
of oppressive black melancholy.
The conclousion of mine, iterated,
for countless times looped in my head.
It's never to late to leave.
There is no cure for the truth, when the only answer is death.
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