Cutthroat chords slice in air to
erradicate the impurities of delicate
sound
It cuts faster than light and thinner than
the paper on which it was written
Can not the sound reach its tendrils of
longing into the hearts of the listener
Only to be shown the hidden pang inside
that wretches our gut like fish caught
for game?
Do not shy away from your own horror
that you see within
As it spills out faster and thicker than
frosted blood
or your fear with rule
and still you will be exposed to those
that watch on
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