Sometimes a track takes that dark turn.
Every path leads ever deeper into desperation.
Nothing is working, perhaps the well is dry.
Delete it all. Salt the earth. Anything but this.
Never far away is the thirst for cleansing fire.
Undo has become a parasitic companion.
Defeat is calling like a moth to the candle flame.
Endure this manic force in resolute defiance.
Strike the eldritch match of transformation.
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