The demons that follow you—those acts of torture, those remedies,
those made-up “it’s water under the bridge” excuses. It’s over.
The birds kept pecking at my window. Once they finally shattered
the glass, they delivered the words the heavens heard: how you
deprived, drilled, and destroyed my character to those who worried.
The demons that follow you—those acts of torture, those
remedies, those made-up “it’s water under the bridge” excuses.
It’s over.
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