VIII. Holes

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Every surface covered with a thin veil of memories and dirt for us to behold

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Every surface covered with a thin veil of memories and dirt for us to behold.

I've tried my best to walk on these thorns and stone, but to no avail, for I keep plunging back into your deadly hold.

My tattered soul has suffered too much; I cannot keep talking to these four empty walls.

Poison embeds itself into my veins for I'm afraid this might be the last breath I take. Your words run shallow. Your words are hollow. Still, you fill my brain with poison and pain.

And I... I keep playing this sinful game, always committing the same mistakes. Always bruised, always stained, from all the times I've slipped on mud and rain.

Why must I wait for you to unchain me? Why can't I run away and set myself free?

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