Rated for Mature(17+)
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weave

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Summary:
dark
dwindling faith, the dark closes in
inviting me closer to death
eternity reaps its own

special need, can only filled by hell
inflicted pain, to awaken my fire
spilling from my lips

sparking the imagination of your inner devil
who speaks in tongues, metaphors of hate
especially crafted for me

your spells call me close
then you push me away taking a part of my soul with you
little did you know I injected you with my love potion
you will seek me on the horizon

our brief interactions have left you marked
now you glow red with grief
the heavy absence of me

greedy remembering it has always been
fate destined our meeting
then flung us apart
leaving us hemorraging

my art is to heal
I will spell on the wind
attracting your affections

you'll feel me there
yes my intent is pure
sulking in the shadows
waitng for your response

time my enemy
spending my hours weaving
conjured desire, awaiting my sentence
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