Pure Fire Poison, an Illusion to Maintain

A pure fire emotional poison, not matched by the pain of a thousand daggers with the burn of a hundred suns, flows as blood through the withered remains of my life delivering veins

Such pure fire venom that corrupts and consumes all it meets in a losing race against inevitable time, flares so much hotter when infected by that oldest enemy of mine, a toxic thing called love

To fan the flames, stoke the furnace and tauntingly enrage, what eagerly does so is the inherent instability that runs deep within the chasms to twist, damage and with venom transfuse once sound logic with chaos ensured

But alas there is a twist, for despite the negative invite of an inclination of self destruct there lies the reasons for which I am still within the realm of life, an illusion of a fated curse belies the true form of a blessing in shadows guise

As on the tombstone I carve my name


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