Dirt take me away.
Too long I’ve suffered for your scars, I’ve died in my own eyes.
False comforts have worn thin.
I will tread virgin ground to a place of perfect gloom, and leave you behind.
My descent, gathering speed so relentless, each juncture more defenceless.
Where hands tremble, cold and bitter.
A perfect place of gloom.
And the dirt will take me.
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