Oh so beautifully useless is this lacklustre life of his
Stretched to within an agonised inch even before said inch was so much as given the time to breathe
He is typically reeling, feeling all of these unspeakably perilous things
You. Just. Must. Amount. To. Sometiing. Special.
Hell, akin to anything if needs be…
Torn to shredded pieces before his true ability ever got to delicately unravel then shine
Avidly whining and pining the live long day away, hopelessly longing for the ultimate comeuppance as such
So far from any kind of known touch
Holding on to all of nothing, when a deceitful bitch baptised in the name of Bitterness came and reared its ugly head, stripped his rather vivid early-doors imaginings right from the very first instance – that is where it just has to hurt the most, for he should probably have always been the charming host with the most
He can still gladly converse with the best of us if only given that chance to make these stirring words dance again
Of course minus the regretful chokehold which soon came and took the equally dishevelling name Pain
It certainly owns the inner workings of these carelessly screaming veins, not to mention tapping somewhat so into his cornered brain
A tragedy happening with no-one left to really see it anymore – he is entirely bereft, irreversibly, constantly distressed
He shall apologise to his long-lost friends one per time, unfortunately for him we’ve been all too memorably fleeting- tending to our very own homegrown inadequacies
These dreams are sound asleep, twitching and tweaking but failing to enlighten any such sizeable sail
The oh so handsome man – he’s beginning to age a little now, wasted and with no real place to go anymore, his sleep his total reprieve, where there get to be no real thieves
He will choke on these bespoke smokes that he has to call his own
When am over-reliant pen suddenly finds the time to mean perhaps more than anything else to him – an admittance his tapestried personality cannot quite yet let itself believe
Bleed his last breath dry via a separate kind of solace altogether, namely a want to leave an utter legacy however unbeknownst to him
A sad matter of fact indeed, that they do land themselves silently inside of their flowered graves before ever gaining some sort of a name
He’s become the crazed cliche above all else, and now he just must attempt to write himself back into play, distasteful or otherwise, no disguising a still beating heart and its wish to set itself admirably apart
Say what it now sadly seems to be the case but he will forever fail to see
Please try and remember when we laughed so very hard it managed to make us cry – destroyed our crystal clear eyes in the best manner we could have ever dreamed of planning

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