Its easier to be a fake
Than show the world your Real.
A conquering ability:
Quite slow, your soul, it steals.
Your lovers lie love in your face
Ashamed to show you off
No better were you on your own?
Your heart has grown up soft.
The hardened ones, they crush their heels
Into your soft shell skull
With friends becoming enemies
Your thoughts then become null
A vegetable; Unconsciousness:
A gift hidden in blood
With lack of feeling anything
While dying, thick in crud.
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