like teethmarks on my fragile heart,
the breathing stops. the beating starts;
i start to feel quite tragic,
clogged with melancholy magic.
and really, we've been dying all this time?
from the moment we were born,
our sprits and our bodies torn?
tripping over missing paces,
shattered plans and open spaces.
truly, we've been crumbling all this time?
i'm loathe to think that this is my demise.
you say i've been burning all this time?
bother not to catch your breath.
i'll tell you when it's worth at all:
but no one's pride can break the fall.
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