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| Skeptic of Skeptics Location: Bristol/Plymouth Posts: 219 | Why is it pain inspired me to write such a misfire of words? There is no sunshine on the open Hill Through and through I cannot stand this tender Bloody Mary of holy thunder She toys with the fork of fire Breathes with the clouds under her finger Like a starlight Cold it is Sublime bliss of nature, it is your mother Tryed and tested, nightmares on the wind Fear enslaves us all The bastards plot your path You follow unwillingly Ignorant of the thread through your head It pulls like an open shed Tying you into your mortality There is no quarter for you here Heliosink into the dirty ground, cry more oh brother You divulge to your greed You die inside And slowly but surely, you realise the error of your ways Will you listen now? The more painless an exercise, the more likely you are of doing it. The more painful an exercise, the more likely you are of learning from it. |
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