destilled in the vengeful tree, we sit us three, devotees to a cause that is not real, gimmicks laid forth, masks worn and torn, a memory, a lost translation of a memory, rekindling of a burden, infused, refused, was it important to forget, or insulting that we had never remembered until now? A crack through which the world can see, what we become with out its call of sanity, for in the madness, only tears are cried for hope..
sometimes madness is the only place I find peace…
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