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Hated Being
My rose petals fell for you, Now the sorrows are all to do, Why our bond felt so right, Always thought throughout the night, And in my blade I asked, "Who is this person I have masked"? Till the rise of my sun, The moon had all its fun.
Opal red blood runs down the jaw. These wires in my mouth, in my eyes, in my whole body are being held together by the stinging hot hooks pierced within my flesh. This great portrait I am painting is for you. The colors are all the same, dark maroon from my veins.
I hold with me the apple from a tree, I look inside and see what was to be. But with the time ticking by, the apple rots and begins to cry.
How could we have been so blind? To kill the innocent is to kill the mind. With the path so smeared, its no wonder I appeared.
Wires are for the liars, hooks are for the crooks, the pain for the slain, cries for the untold eyes, and the chains for that you will never gain.
Ive had enough of the senseless blood shed, time to bleed out the dieing red.





 
 
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