On this happiest of happy occassions,
the smell of a christmas tree. . .
- its scent quickly reminds me how I've -
cut my losses.
Time, came and went!
An anonymous criminal?
That: the fire in me.
Gravity in motion;
like a candle flickers in my eye.
Only the act in decieving loses all meaning,
which I trace back.
I'll not neglect my own defenses,
for the purpose of living a lie.
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