Death in their faces.
A hollow innocence.


They melt on the hot asphalt.

It will be over soon.


Corrupt and clean yourself
Of these bad deeds.

Before its over soon.


The end is near.

The end is close.



I feel it breathing hot down my back.



The finesse of bleeding strangers.

A garden of fumes.



Quick and sharp.

They cut so easy

So pointless.



::pull them under, the children of epilepsy::

drown
far underwater..

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