Its them, the unspoken. Words that do not weigh. Skilled in the art, to slay. Filled with an ominous silence. Born from the crypt, depths. Filled with anger in the heart. Your words, tear me apart. I feel their act of violence. Their shadow looms large, ahead. Of their march, the cry of war. I feel the angst, the will to abhor. But I fear the act of deviance. Dare me not bleed, the silent. Tears of cold anger in vain.

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