This skin you once called your world has shed itself for the sake of sanity. The home you built out of words and promises now lay in ruin.Yet you, the willingly blind - one who bartered eyes for perspective, can't seem to notice. And you linger, your hands pace over each creases of the the sheep's hide the wolf wears. You hold on... to me. And i don't have the heart to tell you for that too is a changeling.
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