Existence has become very painful. The scars of trysts and wars inside my mind erode the core of my self consciousness. Fading away, like a last sunset on the horizon are the remains of my ideals. Schemes and plans to rule the world forgotten, as dreams are meant to be. Dark lie the shadows of this forgotten tomorrow, deep within my soul seeks inner peace, while on the outside I thrash in turmoil. Any happiness I have shown is false, and insubstantial, in my life. The worn chambers of my mind hide my truest fears, death holds no residence there. A reaper will descend, I can accept. My life has been my death, scars I bear perpetually


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