• zilch__ 10w

    /I tip toe on the verses of melancholy, not familiar with the curse it beholds./
    A psychotic that I am, I iron my ravishing hazmat suit everyday, to enjoy the horrendous warmth as I call it, sitting amidst the boiling magma of abandonment. I grip on the never ending ropes embellished with razor sharp blades which entice me, pierce my bitter flesh as I chant my name to remind the flavours of trauma I bestow upon myself.

    I dye my grey nights with a tinge glitter of shine, ensuring I don't mistake the twilight of agony as the meaningless sun in your lives. I lie to your crippled minds spitting nasty shots, I too chant the rhymes in daytime, written in the bible of hope like you but I rearrange and revise the satanic Bible at nights which I tore the day before.

    Am I as insane as you think I am? Does it bother you how I savour my thick dark black sky over that azure blue sky of yours?It's amusing to see you naive souls jovial about the last drops of chuggable water in your bowls while you drown in the acidic sea of discontent.
    My paranoid self is able to find more sense and relish the inverted broken alphabets of monotony while you, neurotic helpless beings wander in search of the alphabets that only form words. You might sprint with a spark of liveliness but I fly in my sky as I flutter my silvery wings of death.

    //I tip toe on the verses of melancholy, as I am the curse it beholds.//

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    I tip toe on the verses of melancholy, not familiar with the curse it beholds.