The fame of pain.

As I sit writting crap,
this shit I feel,
Feels like an attack.

Hell bent on perfecting it.
every clause,
clauses our back.

Exquisite pain lays within,
each word kept,
Keeps us thin.

Eating up when hunger strikes,
without the love,
loves surely dies.

Words will spill,
prayers be kept,
prayers define our weekness yet.

Holy Holy Holy why,
crying is the one try fry,
It filters out the soul of duely.
Making histonic, narsistic folly.

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