The monster hidden in veils of dark ventriloquism, now unable to seperate truth from fiction, saying a lie so many times that it becomes completely true in perception but never in fact. Facts cannot change by their very essence, they can only be miscontrued to be tortuous forms of demonic stature and twisted to be vile and misleading. A fiction
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Lies are beautiful when you can see them as such. But what happens when you warp the whole thing 180 degrees, lost in your own labrynth. I am a very good liar and a very bad one. I know all my lies and who and how I placed them. But I begin to be self deluded. It scares me to think you can go so far and be so good that you lose your primary reference and control over how the construct came.
MEB
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MEB
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