Are you really there when you say you are?
We seem to meet at the middle alright, but I can be none too certain either
Just something or other that tends to boil my blood – an all too dreaded feeling swimming rather courageously, fair dangerously within which just will not relinquish this particular belief that outright animosity may once again take it upon itself to haphazardly occur
You words are notoriously well played out, ducking and diving albeit, nonetheless, trying tremendously hard to forever amount to something strange and superficial
Quite agonising, disguised by a living, breathing necessity to breathe what the devil does speak – your words your fire-emblazoned sword of treacherous sorts
You’ve been harshly sent to ‘heroically’ implement all of these demons and their homegrown inadequacies – the way it absolutely works for your chosen few, your begotten kind
Blinded oh so hastily, whilst all along being wrapped in a golden coat of nauseating distaste by a blasphemous hand that has come to be known as interrupted fate
Perhaps it is too little too late

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