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    He sits in a corner
    Awaiting for his second death
    Life is just a phantasmagoria

    Failing gods
    Emerging scars
    He is still waiting for the dawn

    Ghastly shapes in the ceiling
    Enduring visions of torment
    Burned to retinas

    Cacophony behind the eyes
    Never ceases its song
    Hell is all about repetition
    Eternity in seconds

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    And for a brief moment
    Purgatory around him was silent
    Calm before the storm
    She ascends

    Her laughter is a rope
    An iconoclast
    Suffocating truth
    Happiness was the cyanide

    She grabs him
    Holds him tight
    Like he did
    Whispers his sentence

    Nowhere to run
    Nowhere to hide
    Face the judgement
    Embrace the cold

    He quenches his thirst with pain
    By a cold blade to the gut
    Grabs the handle with a smile
    A twist of a knife
    Nothing was lost here

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