Credits
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Poisonous flame sneaks into the vein
Without a claim, you remain the same
Until it’s late, you spot it rain
Over your head, as a storming wave.
How to deal, how to cope you drain
Every concept from your mind.
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With no fulfillment, you carry the ache
To the grave, in quiet trance.
A desire sneaks in all the same
To combat, to win and overcome the harm
However, in useless due to the fact that, it’s late…too late.
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From @g-mor