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:: Black star, on a white flag. ::
*title inspired by memories of a certain 21 year old that i doubt i'll ever get to see again. "You can point your gun at me - and i'll hope it'll go away, but if God was alive, he would hate you anyway." I still remember the day i committed myself to you. I still remember how i always felt so much stronger and more capable each time i bordered every single task and action on that one decision alone. I never stopped seeking strength from you. I never once questioned. You were the answer to the curious and confused infancy of youth. You were the answer to the rejected, the ostracized, the meaningless, the used, the forgotten, the misplaced - all things that i self-manifested. You gave reason, you gave purpose - you gave drive. But now i start to realize that you didn't solve anything. You were a being come along to make the curious, subservient - and the confused, misguided. Nothing changes. Though your strength and drive i keep resolute; your ways and means i detest. . . Nothing changes. "This was never my world - you took the angel away.
I kill myself, to make everybody pay." _ spoken. at 3:12 PM |
"Point your gun in another direction — now that you've cried yourself to sleep."
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