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Apocalypse

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The world burns as we sleep in its ashes, comforted by the thick blanket of smoke and memories of what could have been. Before the fire has eaten its fill, the morning lark will cry, it’s tears leaving scratches on our hearts. Our dreams float, igniting sparks before slowly evaporating, flowing into a chasm joined by empty promises and starlit passions. And with each decaying breath, we sleep, watching with naked eyes as the moon falls out of the sky, crashing, opening the long forgotten gateways. We are lost, covered in the darkest of shadows that even angels cannot save us now.



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