>Try saying one of these three times fast!



Hey, this is a very festive little poem I, Nader, wrote.

Like writhing ghosts our breath escaped our frozen lips,
and the sky would burn from those crimson flames and crumble into black nothingness.
You long for the times we'd spent,
you wish we could embrace under the rotting naked trees again.

We can't; the darkness came to take me away,
away from you,
and your Octobers will never be the same again,
like pumpkins mangled and destroyed by children to make them grin.

Like a candle burned long, long ago,
like dead leaves decaying beneath our feet,
like people far beneath the dirt,
I will never be the same again.


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