I Wore The Innards Of An Insane Child As My Skin, And No One Blinked – Wrapped In Words

Clean the rot from within with a fork as we drive away the infection of our own self,

A self more like a disease than a being we trust to hold control over our reality,

For the forever we are is only found through the wisdom of inner peace and acceptance,

But with all things a wisdom earned is never granted to those who do not fight for the luxury of sleep,

For in the depths of deep sleep do we find true conversations with the being who hides beneath all the lies and layers of rotting flesh,

Diseased mould,

Spoiled soul,

Soiled pants,

Tonight’s our finale dance,

Because death has come looking for the queen with the palest eyes…

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