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The Moth Gatherer
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The Black Antlers
Recurring relentless patterns
Black antlers from the king
Deep in vortex of thoughts
Carving anxiety from the abyss
A hook through astral planes
A vessel pending in between
Hallways of bones and memories
Gold reversed in my palms
A house of bricks and cancer
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Is always flickering inside
Traverse the consciousness
Sterile vanishing, leave no trace
In here with me
Nothing but the bitter weight
Of memories
A nest of splinters
Making to escape
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