Reasoning Skills, Non-Exsistent
Masquerade, masks dance around the black, faces warped, bitter.
The savior is too far, salvation out of reach, gravity takes hold.
This feeling resembles that of smoke in a tiny box, unfiltered.
Noxious fumes engulf the lungs, burning resides, following.
Unborn human instincts, looking to get laid, ladies join in.
Tourniquet bound and veins colliding, didn't need it anyways.
Barren plains of non-existence, spanning decades into time.
More chaos in the feelings and injuries than in the mind.
More than just an emotion, she beckons for Armageddon.
The apocalypse dances on the door step of the real.
The realm of sanity is no longer alive and breathing.
She killed it, she took its life. This is why she is loved…
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