Crestfallen memories delude me,
A venire is bound upon their shameful face,
Molded into innocence.
They leave a query without trace,
Regarding what is and isn't real.
An illusionary glass parts me from those faces,
Leaves me, a genial victim,
It is my gift and curse.
Unabridged thoughts are carelessly thrown,
They savor every wince of pain.
A mirage screens the greed within their soul.
Yet when time turns,
When it catches up…
Then they shall be the victim,
It's alright to feel guilty…
It comes free of charge.
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