July 10: I was in a hurry when this was written, therefore the quality lacks a bit, and sorry for any large grammar or spelling errors. I didn't go through this as I would have liked.
The paradox holds and lets fall-
The hope spread from demons,
Equal to all the despair to fight.
Swords within the lances of spite.
Anorexia feeds the hungry eyes,
Starving to live in the other lie,
To burn out while filled and engulfed,
But they'll never be strongly satisfied.
I don't see beauty within coal fire,
But within my sooted eyes it lays,
Cover me in blankets of thorns,
Which will fend off the cold-
By piercing and invoking blood flow,
I'll die again holding the flower,
From the bording fence I met and climbed,
And fell from after plucking the hope.
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