At very best, my existence is a passing phase; nothing more than a waste of space. Haunted by my short-comings, I'll make peace with the flames and put this world back on its pace. My mind is in a chokehold, and the grip ain't loosening. The clock is ticking. Time for the grand finale. My mind is wishing that I would die knowing that my existence was a bullshit lie. You wish that died in peace, but I'd rather die in pieces. It'd take so much more than the deaths of one thousand men for me to feel the remorse you beg for. One foot in the grave, one foot on the curb. An eye for an eye, a penny for your thoughts. Gouge out my eyes and let's call it a day. One strike of the match and all my thoughts will be at bay.
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