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Thoughts will consume until nothing can be consumed
It reaches its tune with a melodic fuse
Wires mismatched until you're a mess
Unshaped and scratched
Your mind is complexed
Latched on an image of untrue perfects
Caught upon lies that will hang you
By stitches, you're soaked in the coats of your blood
And left to disappear with all the scraps of mud
-s

The ashes of my remains [Poetry]Where stories live. Discover now