Mister V

4 the cursed & hopeless


Who can relate to the kind of memories in the realms inside my mind

when they're so far-fetched like Christmas elves at Santa's side

beyond a conscious reach they dwell and among delusions they do hide

but in retrospect its just deviation I might say, despite


the ride of chaos they deliver like harshly judged sinners

who will need more than a map to navigate Hell's hills, in turn

or burn to a fiery fate like the sensations of my soul upon my wake

which feels hopeless and cursed even at the start of a brand new day.

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