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Narcosis.

I can hear the leaves beneath my feet.

The cold takes over my lungs.

My veins transport my crystal filled blood,

like streets in december.

It was never meant to be that way.

My eyes burn and no matter how many miles I’ll leave behind,

no matter how far I’m running,

these thoughts will stay.

Your voice is my echo,

it always returns.

It haunts me.

You’re haunting me.

You ran, silent,

but still too loud,

you left traces.

I’m caught in your maze,

so I created this haze.

It’s safe here,

I’m safe.

"Maybe you aren’t made for me. Maybe you never were."

yasmin (via soulsscrawl)

(via dramatic-confusion)