Twisted
how often have I stood here on the edge of madness, ready to jump with clenched fists pacing back and forth, broken… while you stood there content, to see me wallow bleed among depths of despair. my doomed echoes reverberating on padded walls dismissed, as usual and you so sure of yourself that I would take this leap as before with no remorse, no recourse of consequence to my soul, no more. the winds have shifted, and veils were lifted as I saw you for what you are, empty pitiful, pathetic and yet strangely enough, with my nostrils filled with nothing, but your putrid stench of desperation, did you really think I was willing, twisted enough to catch you, still...
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Anger
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hellfire
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