I stare into a pool of flesh and blood
Of beauty. Of life.
Unnoticed. I'm invisible.
I feel perverted
But what are my intentions?
I have none
So who's wrong?
There's no feeling in admiration
There's no incentive for pursuing a pointless target
Methods are useless
Words can't sway as well as the wind
Because everything comes back at once
And crushes some sort of dream or vision
Physical touch and emotional pain are the only memories
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