Fear itself followed by an angry damnation, a fight you’d never win without bitter assessment. A beautiful grip on your soul, the final masterpiece wasn’t chosen for you to be kind to or lost in. What was your best solution, was it too far into the void and can it become more than you lost before. Filed away in that box of lies, the filter didn’t become known for you to be made into a foolish blister. On the tracks with filthy intolerance, you battled for supremacy with magnetized wonder. It was a cheat, you hadn’t breached the walls in treason. Who was laying it out, the line of catastrophe. Bleeding and tattered corridors unfathomed with tethered wind chimes. Playing music, that beat you from within a damaged blistered piece.
Creator And Contributor- Chris Ballenger
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