Thoughts provoked by prophecy and ink.
The sisters hath spun their web of lies and fortune
So I implore you
Leave everything behind and run
Perceive as palpable to your essence
but it mixed and recoils as one in it of itself
and becomes something deadly.
I'm sorry but I have no life to breathe into you
Just a bedraggled soul to cast into the flames of your dying spirit
Kill the breath of dark matter and dripping ink
Destroy a part of yourself for the other
They only value you for filling that hole
with the part of yourself that you built from sand and crystals
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