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Transformation Trance

And when the music plays i concave into my cold and distant self. I touch every fear and i pat every tear dry. I no longer stand still, I rythmically disappear. The world doesn’t see me, it only looks for beauty and played out moves. People study every gesture, every dance step, every artistic technique. But with me, there is no art. There is no beauty in shedding skin.
Horror exists in me like a new born child so powerful yet absolutely dependent. No art comes close to twisting the elements as i do. My mind burns, it bursts into flame with fear and overexposure. No beauty is warm enough to compare. No strength is cold enough to extinguish.
No word is deep enough to pull me up, and no sound is loud enough to wake me from this transformation trance.

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