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It’s a charade masked by a facade of lies and half-truths filling the vacuum left by a disappearing heart. A marauding vandal looking to destroy, to desecrate, to spill the virginity of man’s soul upon the ground of despair and self-want. Do not allow the frozen fingertips to caress. They slide up the spine, tickling desires and ears with words full of wants, but devoid of valuable gold. Fool’s words landing on an empty shelf, dust billowing up like ashes from a consumed life.

 

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