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A Decadent Pain

I have to revaluate the part of me that I gave

The portion of me that stayed, kept me from chasing the pieces of you that I craved

I remember being with you not wanting to leave my room

Malleable and slaved

My soul was complacent, a basic stigma that led me to doom

Compatible with the mundane

I was a dead flower that was too tarnished to bloom

A decadent pain

My room turned into a dungeon on the dark side of the moon

Where I prayed that the part of me that I gave could be replaced

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