Screaming at the top of its lungs
Forcing you to listen
Engulfing you with in its grasp
Thundering over you
You, to weak to even struggle
You lay sight on it, you want it
Though you shall never have what isnt yours
Killing you from the inside out
You try to fight, yet you continue to feel,
That dark, cold, scornful embrace of jealousy
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The Black Book of Blood
Its me. What I would write about are stories i like to come up with some times.
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