I inherit deadness from dead dreams.
My soul was tormented.
I am a mannequin stocked with blood and bones.
My reality is shaped by thunders.

I don’t laugh on same joke twice.
I don’t feel same pain again.
My life, just like yours, had abundance.
I’m a man made of blunders.

I sink in the ink of escaping happiness.
I cling around the neck of sorrow.
I’m headstrong but to let go.
My head is twisted on memories I never made.

Yet, I’m on a mission to hunt my dreams down.
I burn in hollowness with passion.
I’m carving my heart. I’m stitching its wounds.
Definitely not the one who surrenders.

-Marc Alcock

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