I see a face smudged by the stains of deceit, I can not tell, is it you, or is it me, lost souls burning, nowhere to tread, empty, lifeless souls entangled in a web of lies, feeding on the spoils of lost love, drinking others desires to quench their thirst of sorrow, but will they finally see, their strings are being pulled by the master of their own sin.
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Comments about this poem (faceless soul by Brent McCracken )
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