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If it would lift the curse, I would let these whispers tear me apart.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

Set the blazes of a burning candle to the sky, And watch the fire spread through the clouds like water through rocks.

Like leaves, they drift.

Top hat falling through my fingers like black and purple sand.

Sworn secret mothers

Muse

Like ordinary ticking, broken clocks, you only think of mortality when time stops.

And thou shalt be called, The repairer of the breach, The restorer of paths to dwell in.