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By nature
We are sinful
Without fail
We fear morals
We tell ourselves to suppress our impulses
And our bodies writhe with the pain
The mirror reflects
Such a corrupted figure
The facade it casts
Is such an exhilaration
How does the truth
Reflect upon your insensitive skins?
It's the catharsis
Of hollowing out
One's own body
If that's the case, then attach yourself to this body
By this you'll be purified of your deepest wishes
The evolution of the apocalypse
Has the sweet scent of camphor on a photo
My non-becoming was a lie, an imitation
Silver hair and profound crimson eyes of glass
Without a doubt, the time for change has come
I long for someone to caress and hold this human flesh
Through human life
Greed dies and fades
The melancholy grows
By gallons in proportion
To the restrained condemnation of the merit that was slipped off
The intolerability of another's interference
But after a little while
I'll become
The perfect vessel
This incredible substitution of my body to the sun can't be broken
Nothing grows old, but neither is it beautiful
This photo was warmly cast aside with the refusal of your deepest wishes
And the evolution of your cocoon
This black dress has always been searched for
To flexibly stretch these graceless limbs
This white lace trembles softly with every step I take
And my thoughts draw out a solitary genesis
My non-becoming was a lie, an imitation
Silver hair and profound crimson eyes of glass
There are no longer things that bind or condemn
But only solitude can continue to heal