stop.
i can't take it anymore.
(and the world's shooting colours
flooding shades of sepia and
splashes of grey)
where did you hide, my memories?
did the crosshair on your gun
finally find the target
you'd lusted to kill?
or maybe it was me all along...
did you come for me tonight
to lead me into the line of fire?
or simply to tap me on the shoulder
and
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