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To Each His Own
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I Speak the Language of Destruction
I can no longer hear the mourning whispers Of havoc that I once embraced. In the shadows of memories Of what could have been. The stinging pain of paths not taken is one that I will never forget.
In my treachery I find solace and comfort. It does not require responsibility One action for the steps I have elected. With such vigor and fear I tread deeper into The nothingness that will surely consume my life.
A poetic irony leads me by the hand. Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com In such dime of lights (Relieve you of my sin and dread what's to come of me.) It is easy to convince myself That this life was always that, of which I was destined
Brutal, short, and empty My affliction is, at last glance not the fault Of tradition, but my own burden. So with my last goodbye I ask you not to hate me for what I was, or what I am. Seek deep in your soul the trust that I will be free. Forget everything you thought you knew about me. (The last attempt to redeemed myself from break revisions. I see what I must do.)
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