April 2, 2010
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It is growing.
Swiftly, softly.
Permeating every inch of reality.
All I have is consumed.
Every fiber of sanity in me
now faces corruption and loss.
I do not know why I am here,
nor do I wonder,
for answers will destroy me
amongst the rubble of this mind.
It is growing.
A virus,
infecting my emotions.
Deadly ivy,
curling over my senses,
smothering me.
It was my rise,
and it will be my downfall,
of that I am sure.
This curse called love,
is it to be held sacred,
or feared?

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