Infatuated to cold, dark...
Infatuated to cold, dark...  dark stories
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blastimus
blastimus but they since rose, and won the day.
Autoplay OFF   •   8 months ago
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Infatuated to cold, dark...

Hours on end, countless scratches on the word "depressed", a little cut on "obsessed", a bigger one on the desk, the rest....

All over the place, on the walls, ceiling, bed, and there's really no need to pretend, myself I rend.

But it all took shape once the one hole not made by a knife got filled with something that gave me life, that took the sated blade and slowly but surely, and surely unruly,

it turned it to a rusty spade that dug my grave, a sorry engrave on the tombstone carved out of moonstone and it read:

"In infatuation I lingered for ages, I lived with the sages of my mind, I wandered from flower to flower, kissed each petal...

In infatuation I broke out, I kept free from the shackles that held me for so long...

But in infatuation I will inevitably perrish, where's the point in living once it passes."

And infatuation faded, disipated, and with it, so did he.

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