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Brave he is.
The Knight.
Sleeping gently,
In his bed of wine and ******.
And fear.
At the sword at the neck.
The bright slash to break the daydream.
Armour flashes to flesh.
To bread, the fleshes armour.
Starvation Steel Plate.
The rebellion is hungry.
The armory will provide defence.
Don't shut the door to the noise.
The room is crazy loud
White walls and blank.
Hanging high
Seeing sky's
Stop the twitch
Happy for now, for you.
Me myself and I.
Eye balling Rotten white
Sad. A shame. Travesty.
Fickle in its burden.
Gemstone vibrancy.
See the hole
It's deep
And funny
And shiny
Enticing
Black.
The
Feeling pretty low
Happy with the state of things.
Some say.
Hardly though.
Things are not ideal.
Bags of beer
Plastic tinsel
Bread and milk
Gifts for all
Lottery ticket
Starry escape
I stare at myself in the mirror.
It's stillness and silence mocking.
I smile and it smirks.
Such violent silence as we stare at each other.
Staring at pure psychosis, ripping and tearing at our reflection.
The sickening, purifying, hatred.
Claws at the glass.
The eyes never move, the stare is never broken, for he knows that I am him and he is me, and we are the mirror.
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