Dying for my Angel
Description
A ballad written in 8-6-8-6
Foreword
I know you know this feeling . . .
The moment when you find yourself attatched to a grey screen you call your computer, anxiuosly waiting for the release, the teaser, all of it, minutes away while you're sitting in your room waiting . . . just waiting. Theres that small voice in your head whispering crazy thoughts, in a language you shoudn't even know. The constant thrum of your heart rapidly increases as the time ticks by ever so slowly. Quick, distract yourself to make time run faster. Faster. faster. You can't wait. Finally, their comeback is here!
Diagnosis:
You've fallen, farther and faster than you've ever thought possible. To some place beyond, some place where its hard to find yourself back. Restraint? You've let go of that long ago, who cares as long as you can hear that voice through your worn speakers, see that face on a blinking screen. No, don't question it. The point isn't that you're doing it, the point is that you've fallen, tempted by a machine and you know how sweet thet gains are. And you hold on to that, not ever wanting to let it go . . .
Falling, falling, falling.
We are the fallen.
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