Rain turned to ice,and lightning splintered, it splicedthe black sky, it seeped a bright white.All animals they fled,from the sky as it bled,pale death that fell veiling the night.
The match I struck shall not run deadYou__e my first inhale, my last cigarette.
Where Pain Thrives
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The match I struck shall not run deadYou__e my first inhale, my last cigarette.
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