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So allow me to use your lungs and your breath as my inhaler.
Because my lungs are forever severed, so be as my tailor.

Hesitation in my inhales will be the interpretation of your respire.
A seen misconception of a falling chest to the resurrection by a deep breath.

But the oxygen you gasp for will be appropriated to fuel my fire.

Drifting next to me is the spilling of your lungs,
cloak for inconsistency,
armor for what I confront.  
A refugee for the alterations and the changes.
Your spine is an easel as your body the canvas.

Let me paint you a pretty picture
Reflected to the pupils in your eyes
Darker than the trench that allows you to see the beautiful lies.

Couplets of brush strokes and puppets that you choke
The air you abuse, now CO2
Is the kindle to my fire.
The man stood there,
in the dark with a look of askance.
No one asked him, they just past him.
He was benign
With a face to intimidate
Still blank in the dark,
Pondering existence.

Welcome back sinners
Cutting wood,
Attenuating the wood.
He thought he was useless,
Cavil of himself.
He was a charlatan,
A man of dark,
An open heart,
He fell so far.
This would defeat him.

You can not be the light in the distance,
but only the spark of  resistance.
Tisk tisk, now remember this.
Clocks only show time of decimating existence.

With an axe in hand
The man oscillated it.
Striking wood...
Striking wood!
A gun to tame
But missing its holster
Throw it down...
Throw it down!
[silence]
Because the only thing running through his mind is a Bullet.

So let's hang up the night sky,
And die in the dim Lighght.

Reaching his eyes
A luminous hole struck.
Opening wide
The man dropped his gun
Towards the light
His faith had won
Exit the dark
Leave with conclusion.

Oh god was he cold...

— The End —