The soul's run dry of inspiration.
Obscured thin lines waver distant.
War's grown old bitter in my bones.
I numb all senses to drown in lust and descend.
The island of defeat is an impeccable anomaly.
A prison for truth guarding the keys to life's possibilities.
Holding faith is agony.
No ones sees plagues that haunt inside.
Pain is the master ritual of life.
Ancient spirits gave warning.
Pain is the master will of the dying.
A thankless honor, willing to possess a life worth living, yet begging for death.
Starlight looms low.
A silence grows.
Feel the rot set in your core, a solemn slow oppression.
Transcending clarity.
Vile reflections.
Exhume my soul.
Corruption desecrates all of my sanity.
A tragedy manifests a dishonor so deep within my mind reality declines.
No ones sees plagues that haunt inside.
Pain is the master ritual of life.
Ancient spirits gave warning.
Pain is the master will of the dying.
Transcending clarity.
Buried existence.
Exhume my soul.
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