You and I are like external knife wounds, yellow pus rising on tender flesh
The thick callus on the middle finger binds the incomprehensible confusion of reality.
Why do you always breathe in my nightmares,
Why am I chasing the white cat that suddenly jumps out of the dark night...
His body was covered in disgusting pustules, and even breathing was a sin.
Let him go, Lord Open-minded God, you already know his fate.
Calm down, Lord Open-minded God, are you not used to being born on the other side?
Intention: random