Byzantine Byzantine

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Get off your high horse. We're not in Constantinople. You plead and you plead but you just don't care to hear me.

You're the emperor of your household, but you don't realize how it's more like a stronghold. Just like Hades, you guide and deal with their lost dead souls, and their friends are their only pulls.

"Stop bringing them in your lulls," I implore. Oh, if only I knew what would be in store..

It's rotten to the core. I keep saying no more, no more. Yet it keeps coming. And never stops.

I try to help I try to pass through.
I end up crying I end up dying.
I wind up sighing I wind up flying.
Flying, into the miserable state that has become of this unfair life. Life is unfair, they say, but honestly this is barbaric.

Where's the resort? I just want something of that sort. I want the graceful times back, but now what's going on seems like we've experienced a hack. And it's viral. No matter how much we try to fix the situation, it keeps coming and going and coming. Only to lash at you once again in a series of multiplyingly worse psychological battles we fight.

To the light, we traverse on through.

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