Ah....the dark circles of icy angst that permeate and deluge themselves from thy computer screen sing to my blackened lump of coal I call a soul. Tendrils of curly, blackening smoke fill my eyes bringing forth a wetness of tears to fill the darkest depths of the ocean, casting a light as if from the very moon itself, snuggled between leathery wings of tumultuous clouds that is my organs.....
See I can make bad Goth poetry too! And without the help of a generator.....Wait a minute... that's a bad thing isn't it? :)
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See I can make bad Goth poetry too! And without the help of a generator.....Wait a minute... that's a bad thing isn't it? :)
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Especially tonight.
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