I have to remember not to rush
Not to stumble and fall when pushed
Very careful not to stagger
pushing pin like needled daggers
Piercing bloodlines eases pain
from tearin out the broken veins
Crimson maps upon the skin
darken visions trapped within
Somewhere between the soul and mind
cadavers rot amongst the flies
Corosion turns into decay
and sores which fester turn to plauges
Deceit and lies have formed the crust
of that in which I should not trust
Hate and pain still spin the core
of that which haunts me ever more
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