come to my empty home,
where my thoughts sit alone,
in a world that is unknown,
resting in hell on their own,
searching for the heaven's magic,
and live through all the tragic,
outcomes that show its face,
but even that hope has no trace,
of ever existing from time to time,
like the perfect crime,
it steals any of the shine,
from my very mind,
but instead shoots an arrow,
that leaves a gaping hole,
of blackness in my soul.
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