Pale Orchid

1 min read
Happy people are sickening 
No one is ever that happy all the time

It feels so good to be bad
Fighting against the pure

I let the rage fester, poisoning my conscious
Blistering pustules - The Fear - infect my exterior

It used to make me sad
To dwell on the things that I have lost

I have become hardened against the good
In order to restore what was gained.
love, peace, and adobo grease, Guilliean

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