Lydia
Trough the searching lights that weave and dart comes the stranger that
Cares not for your heart
The pain of living life this way must take its toll on you some day.
Your jaded eyes can see embarrassment or harm the frail skin
That bleeds emotionally on guard.
All lowest forms of life are pounding you inside
Your hollow cold display your tired masquerade let the image that you
Present entice
Unlike the mirror that shows the strains of vice this act of contact your
Decay while
Willing souls will more that pay.
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