low

Like a cart with wooden wheels,

my feet chap on rocky slopes

How fast am I going?

How low I may go?

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Secrets to the grave

unavowed-plantbody

Shall it come to the day my lungs lose air for the last

My deeds in the dark I pray are buried beneath the dust with my bones

I am not scared of death.

I am scared of the light that will shine forth,

On My DEMONS…

They are only friends I have had…

… in this wasted life I have led

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