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What is joy but the pain on your face?
There is no lie but the smile that's in place.
Hope is a dead man's fleeting last breath
And trust is the gun that I aim at your chest.
A song is only a dream long forgotten.
The fights that I start are my favorite excitement.
Laughter is merely your fatal disease
For which the cure is the blade that I keep.
Love is kicking you while you are down.
Fun is torturing you, I have found.
Butterflies are angry spirits of the dead,
While truth is the monster that's under your bed.





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