The dead women is dead
and stiff
I cry a little tear
I sniff
I cut my little finger
I bleed
Where are all the flowers?
All I see are weeds.
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About Me
- I brew hatred in my black cauldron of death
- Who am I? I am the useless space between life and death. I drift meanlessly from black storm to dark raincloud, engulfed in the SHIT and the FAIL THAT IS MY SHRIVELLED SOUL!
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