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Journal

In Darkness Grows

The Odd

Odd things come out of my head, odd things are written by my hands. But such as it is and such as it will be and so I will write and the oddness will come and it will go. Such is the way of things.


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Don't give because its hope that binds us
Pain that guides us
Who do we trust when those things remind us
Its hope that guides us
Pain that binds us
Who do we trust when they're not behind us?