The time has come for us to make a telling difference – to separate fact from terrific fiction
Bewitching might find itself to be quite nice
Indeed, for we’ve been tapestried in a most sensational fashion, unabashed and prepared to caress the other one’s veteran hand and to search and replicate our sophomore fate – magical aside a relative necessity for tragedy swimming all too poisonously in between, too keen to ignore
Remember when we trembled to an agonised point, anointed by these flying bullets of hope sent to set us entirely apart
We very nearly had to stop before we ever even got to start – youthful people pushed recklessly, rather needlessly, on in
Yet our bleeding hearts won out above all else, trying to smile amidst a life’s momentary pile-drive – no real disguising what’s being sumptuously, all too disrespectfully, televised a billion times per minute
We came back to create a far more strengthened fate
Sedated by whiskey and big black thick cigars in the fire-skied evenings – a different kind of sun altogether, prying into our ungodly everything, burning balls of utter rage blinding these sad and luckless eyes
Here we are, reminiscing to the high heavens, tending to our each and every storyboard scars, left on some sort of a par albeit terribly memorable, there ain’t no quenching that
If I could I gladly would – my mind is crying out for something a little more special
‘Fraid to say it but turns out to be we were this particular war’s greatest photographers – no Pulitzer Prize for what works for the enemy if only they could delve again inside of these professional minds
Steal even more of us away – safe to say we would permit them this

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