What’s the point of tallying our luck?
See if the numbers are in our odds
Or if the dates array into destiny’s pattern
Or if our fingers
Intertwined with a tangled crimson string
But what are we to do
If the stars refuse to align
As if we force the universe
To conspire and bind us through suffering?
And so,
The darkness becomes our confidant once more
And the only star in our favor
Is the dark star
That soon collapse into the abyss
You said forever is daunting
But maybe it is just not our thing
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