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It's pitch is speechless, yet disgusting.
But beauty is petrifying, while it sets us to fears.
We rely on are eyes, and take it for advantage.
But this is a gift, death before blind. When we can't see are we scared of what we don't, or does it bring back memories of haunting things.
Were just not nocturnal, except your light before you lose it a funeral.
When we look at the septum where did it begin? And when we see the black's spectrum where did it start getting colors?
Seeing the big picture, it's just a fervor-less, dull, nova.
Growing when the light sleeps, then it goes back into the opposite of the eclipse.
Black hole, neutron star, whatever you are... I think, just maybe I know what your made of.
The light itself! When everything dies it trembles into the darkness, it becomes evil, twisted , hysterical, hateful.
D-A-R-K, E-V-I-L, H-A-T-E, all four letters, all mean the same.
Just one more thing the heart says, till it to is unraveled into the depths of dark.
So when the dead, cloud your mind, and when the horrors are screaming its anything but kind.
You can always remember, even the whitest light, falls... Dies...
And has a lifetime to allow their soul to grind.