March 27, 2010
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I never thought about this at all
ignoring bloody letters on the wall
That drip like fresh wounds

What’s left of our picturesque games
hang behind the glass of shattered frames
that live in our home

It’s a house of a thousand bad dreams
just a burnt hollow that ain’t what it seems
that stands in ruins

From a nightmare I did awake
to find out the monsters were all fake
that I am alone.

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