And it started back then.
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Go on, let the ink of your words spill forth on the yellowing paper.
Let it tell the truth of your feelings.
Your thoughts of envy and justice.
Let it tell the world your reflecting views like a mirror within the black pools that flow through your veins.
Your lips are a vessel.
Twisting and winding.
Contorting with your intentions.
A mocking rythum follows the sound of your voice and it carries me up and down, in and out.
Forever pulling me through magnificent trances.
The images you create vividly re-created in my mind.
And i only hope that someday windblown caresses will be thrown my way.
misery is so beautiful