There is nothing more painful
shameful, wasteful
than when I open my mouth
and the words don't come out.

There is nothing I desire more
my love, my everything, in my core
I want to tell you my sorrow
but my time with you is borrowed.

There is nothing more disappointing
than falling, once more, the mantle, the core
into the gaping crater of my skull
the molten thoughts burn me.

There is nothing more strange
than when I don't bleed anymore
I am one with the deranged dancing flames
there is no more incarnadine to be shed.

There is nothing more terrifying
than knowing I'll never be the same again
and its pointless telling you all of this
I'll only put my flames in your chest.
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