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Depressor
03:13
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My hands cast shadows to the wall like demon's wings, aching over every stress and fracture with the heat of infamy. I watched you bury yourself beneath an earthly shell of excuses, spiraling from the core like an aging tree. Your mouth fills with dirt and you split at the seams. I’ll throw myself from paradise towards unwavering seas, and I’d move my arms if the effort had pressed, but I’d rather sink to watch the bubbles rise. Scattering the dimming light over my sullen eyes.
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I need you to stop trying to relate to every single thing I have to say. Believe me, you don’t understand, and I can still feel the wounds from where you cut me out of your life. My being marked with guided lines for you to sever, throw to the wayside. Doors swing like the reaper’s scythe, and the days won’t ever matter. I haven’t forgiven you. I should thank you for my loss of pride. I should thank you for my loss of faith. No anchors to weigh me, no chains shackle my feet. No hands to hold me, no gods in the sky.
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3. |
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The sting dulls with age, its bite blinds and fades. The pain isn’t the same, but the scars remain. Heavy lies the head adorned with your destroyer’s crown. My head only sulks between my shoulders, seeking middle ground. There’s no rest for the wicked, and my eyes prey on the weary. I’m losing sleep and sanity covering tracks so frequently. Let my love into your soul; see my hate break your bones.
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