Every lost word, every doubt, every regret, swirls through the synapses of an aching mind. They combine, crystallise, forming an ancient compulsion. Daggers hang poised over bare skin. They wait with bated breath; will you take your punishment?
You're reading this, so you must have too much time on your hands. It's just my lame attempts to communicate with the world, or myself. What I'm trying to communicate, I ain't so sure... All resemblance to any people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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