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Long lost words whispering to me,
Telling a tale too gruesome to concieve.
Of a burden too horrid
For the weak and weary to believe.
It slowly tortured you, until you're no more.
Your screams resonate like nails on a chalkboard.
But you'll beg for relief before it
Makes you another head to score.
But in death will be no relief,
More pain awaits despite your belief.
There is no candy cloud world that awaits in your passing.
There are no candy clouds, nor golden shiny seas.
The seas are scarlet blood retired.
Why is it like this you're asking?
Because the burden's need for pain is dire.
And the burden never loses sight,
Of those who beg for the knife.
It gladly obliges their pleas for release.
For they are the ones who give the burden life.