As I stand before you,
the spindly glass of my world trembling
facade of stone shaken...
I reach to you-
then see the recoil-
that instant of rejection
that green tint
of an aura's retreat
and you maintain the distance
and why not?
after all, clearly its my fault
nothing of me
naught of me at all
well...
I'll stay in my corner
til my corner evaporates
with the morning sun
night's crimson death...
-Carl-Anthony
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