Authors, Writers, Publishers, and Book Readers
All the blood on our hands, stains
All the time that has ticked, gone
All the shards from the hourglass, dissipating
we've all but fallen, we refuse it.
we've all but died, we refuse it.
we've all but given up, we refuse it.
we will our existence into this world by force alone.
dream to make believe, but not all that shimmers is gold.
The sins of our life will pass on from this world.
Nothing but a story and fabrication.
What role will we play?
Time waits for no one.
Your work is really good.
For me, this one stands out of the rest.
It somehow reminds me of my favorite band.
It has certain, edge, you could say, in it.
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