Like moths, their pot of gold is indeed a bright one,
Full of triumph, fulfillment and light.
The only target in their existence,
The blinding source keeps their addictions well-fed.
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hmm i dont know why but this reminds me of a song where sorrow filled of empty lives pointlessly sacrificing themselves for a purpose they think is almighty
your still beating my poetry by uncombable distances
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hmm i dont know why but this reminds me of a song where sorrow filled of empty lives pointlessly sacrificing themselves for a purpose they think is almighty your still beating my poetry by uncombable distances