Scarlet Sessions: I Am – Part One

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I write because it’s cathartic for me.

I put words to secrets I’ll never get to say.

The lonely artist screams inside of me.

I bleed nocturne, composing late night feelings,

Probe my victim space to unload these burdens.

My fingertips gently stroke the vile trigger,

As moon sickness consumes the midnight entity.

I chase little earthquakes.

Capture stars caught on fire.

Weave a constellation of errors in a cosmic landscape.

I’m not like the rest of them.

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