Everything you’ve ever said to me; lost and concentrated in this hate. Unholy shepherds leading the wandering. Look at what I’ve become, a ghost of what I was. Nailing the door shut, throwing ourselves at the wall. Wondering what has become of once holy instruments. These are the figures of fallen hearts called home. Everything you’ve ever said to me; lost and concentrated in this hate. Were it not for the pride of mankind causing us to falter, causing us to fall out of line. And heaven replies to our sympathies, resounding: Take back everything you know about love. We will see this end undone. But I can count the years I’ve been wandering from this violence, and from this madness. Ashes to ashes your flesh is still flesh. I’ll cut the life from this dying wish. [[Category:Letter To Exiles]]
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