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“The stars stare back In that deep, Soul-shattering blackness And from the depths of existence Comes a cruel, icy wind Raising the hairs On the back of your neck And suddenly it feels Like you’re walking a tightrope Over that endless abyss On one sad, fraying, thin Violin string.” — Justin Wetch
The stars stare back
In that deep,
Soul-shattering blackness
And from the depths of existence
Comes a cruel, icy wind
Raising the hairs
On the back of your neck
And suddenly it feels
Like you’re walking a tightrope
Over that endless abyss
On one sad, fraying, thin
Violin string.