At the point where I’m watching all my heroes age
To walking sticks and hearing aides
We are but a vapor, searing rain
Gone tomorrow, here today…
Cutthroat enemies asking if I fear the blade
Will be upended when they find out
I’m only afraid of the image that the mirror creates
Evil twin, hellbent on the prospect of seeing blood again
Trying to appease the deadite inside, Alyssa Sutherland
Malevolent spirits in my dome I’ve played host so long
If my sins were tattoos I’d look like fucking Post Malone
Sometimes I look to the horizon high and wonder is my fate finalized
Should I lie and die or ask whatever help of whatever force is keeping this site alive?
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