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On the other side of perfect between the golden silky lines is the mirrored world we live in where ties don't always             fully bind they unravel at the seams get frayed so rough and broken as the blood and sweat and screams replace the words of love unspoken and we all have a place for fake for presentation, a kind of lie but the truth snaps us awake as we choose to live or perhaps to die Yes, some of us might disintegrate in the wake of destruction's wrath not seeing for the       blindness that pain causes on the path for we forget              that light inside us in our darkest stings of wounds we forget how            high voltage wavelengths reside within the numbness that consumes and once reflection melts the glass and throws self-hate into the fire this is the hour of miracles of faintest stains that take us higher our deepest inner whispers that roll discreetly through our veins rumbling humbly between heartbeats that push the bloodflow pumping, igniting sparks inside our brains and whilst my heart is battle-shattered it quickens up in pace as I electrify myself and to the heavens                 turn my face let the wild sunset bathe my soul in shades of shocking blue for after every combat encounter I rise again               anew
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Oct 25, 2016
Oct 25, 2016 at 4:45 PM UTC
This Hour of Miracles
On the other side of perfect between the golden silky lines is the mirrored world we live in where ties don't always             fully bind they unravel at the seams get frayed so rough and broken as the blood and sweat and screams replace the words of love unspoken and we all have a place for fake for presentation, a kind of lie but the truth snaps us awake as we choose to live or perhaps to die Yes, some of us might disintegrate in the wake of destruction's wrath not seeing for the       blindness that pain causes on the path for we forget              that light inside us in our darkest stings of wounds we forget how            high voltage wavelengths reside within the numbness that consumes and once reflection melts the glass and throws self-hate into the fire this is the hour of miracles of faintest stains that take us higher our deepest inner whispers that roll discreetly through our veins rumbling humbly between heartbeats that push the bloodflow pumping, igniting sparks inside our brains and whilst my heart is battle-shattered it quickens up in pace as I electrify myself and to the heavens                 turn my face let the wild sunset bathe my soul in shades of shocking blue for after every combat encounter I rise again               anew
Hante "The Storm"  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z9oIK7Dqf7I
lora-lee
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Oct 25, 2016
Oct 25, 2016 at 4:45 PM UTC
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