I seem to pose.
A face, a lie, a mask.
Finding myself is at least,
The way we go, the way I speak.
The way to treat,
I've become a beast.
I've became impure,
Unsure, and infused.
In this life, it was your fault.
My heart was on the line.
Not my find,
But your loss.
Your finding it and I'm signing it,
I hate the feeling, then I saw.
I say I may, have became a slave.
But who's to know,
What will be reasoned,
With you in this life,
Caring is useless cause ill find it on my own,
I really fucked it up this,
Didn't I my dear?
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