Title: Optional

Text: My knuckles were bruised like violets. Sucker punching walls, cursed you as I sleep talked. Spineless in my tomb of silence. Tore your banners down, took the battle underground. And maybe it was ego-swinging, maybe it was her. Flashes of the battle come back to me in a blur. All that blood-shed crimson clover, uh huh. Sweet dream was over. My hand was the one you reached for all throughout the great war. Jeder Absatz wird ein Test sein.

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