accurseds | Jan. 9th, 2030

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Jan. 9th, 2030

FROM WHICH THE GUILT EMITS

You're the holy mother god 
and I aspire to your goodness
But the only thing I have 
inside to offer is a pit
I suffer just to moan
I scratch my itches to the bone
I keep confessing 'til I hit the spot 
from which the guilt emits


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