Bloodied Rust

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Don’t chase after your nightmares; they might chase after you.

I chased the wrong kind of dreams, and now they’re chasing me. 

I can’t stop them; they’re inflicting irreversible pain unto me.

They have come for me and I know it.

Their claw marks burn and their bites make me ache.

I drown the dying screams with synthetic happiness. 

It’s stitched with fake love and patched with false hope.

The nightmare breeders tear the stitches apart and swallow the patches whole.

Tears can’t cleanse the bloodied rust from the walls. 

Don’t be like me.

Chase your dreams, not your nightmares.

Or else your nightmares will chase you.

Hope must exist somewhere.

Why?

Because I’m still living.

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