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chook chook chook.
The eager devouring and tearing of scissors.
Snapping away existence.

Hooked on the killer music, encouraging loathing, affectionate for what is affectionless.

you have been passionate for a knife.
a lie a disguise
deceptions

sweetly disguised.

so...sweet
your eyes are lamps, tempted into the night.
away from the

light.

the crumbling of the purpose you were made for.

the snapping of your identity.
so eagerly ignored.

snip snip snip
goes the facts of love.
goes the truth that's

smacked right in

your face.

Bald spots laid bare.
for the evil one to be there, to take you away,

to take you there.

to where

your death is every few forevers.
and where suicide is no longer an option.

why was it an option.
the night skies were your dreamt of destination.

A compromise, a quick route.
comfort is what you want, and you find it in

death?

It's not too late.
the hair is cut off but at least you still have a head.

Its not too late.
For you to say

"Lord Jesus, forgive me my sins this very moment."

This very moment
Jesus has forgiven you.
God loves you, even when you don't feel like you are.

— The End —