You know what?
I heard something, not long ago.
And now it echoes.
It bothers me.
It makes me sick.
It proves your filth. I know your secrets.
You aren't a model for a demon.
Mend your wounds.
Your lies are bleeding.
Convince someone else of your shoveled in confidence.
Buried away, but I know.
And if I had my way, a thousand eyes would witness.
You point your finger at me with one foot in your grave.
Liar.
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