The day followed the night holding her breath to the unknown

Turning her head to death and embracing this shadow

how can she be another even in pain these long nights when the ghosts unleash their memories?

how is this maddening repetition of pain can go on in this absolute embrace?

This is a lie another one coming from the librarian of passion

but a lie is always so very unreal to the eye yet they dare say it the ones who fear of their image.

Just imagine an image of purity puking lies to your face

what an excellent victim they are!

At this landscape the dawn will arrive later and the wake is long…


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