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It is the sword you swallowed
threatening to pierce through.
A voice you can feel
pushing you to the edge of perception
It’s seeing the absent evidence
It is being enveloped by a product
of your own doing.
And when the facade thickens
you find only one way out,
and its existence gossamer
Tears well up in my eyes
As I wait for night to pass
The quiet hours never lie
As sad emotions flow and flow fast

It's pain
That I feel
I don't want to
Cry to sleep once more

— The End —