It struck the night, and everything was gray
The day passed in me as a descendant of Darkness
No Traun into the self
Each Begin a way in sub-worlds
Dreams as a wobble into beings Nothing
But I lived, yet.
Light shade called gouty
Pain only a sign
That
But I lived, yet.
Degenerate hope to sin
Heard singing for torment
But I lived, yet.
Joy as deceptive Cross
Alone, I was still alive.
I will re-
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Tags: Christmas
