okay, if I'm gonna whine...

I'll at least do it lyrically.


Thousands of sharp creatures crawling in the back of your throat. Cough to try and tear out the parasites and their beds. Slamming though your head the cough thobs through you. Body flares with heat to burn out the invaders, the world seems cold, causing trembling that never seems to end.

Songs that wish to break out and the daily framework of counce and cheer snap pain, through joints and muscles feel as if they have clawtips gouging though them, waves of inward cold and pain.

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duskboi
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