alma de de fiera
--- 🎤 “SANTA’S COSTUME, BEAST’S SOUL” --- 🔹 ` Yeah… The one who played at being the good girl… but was nothing but cheap theater. Today, the mask falls away. ` --- 🔹 ` You arrived with the shine of a shop-window doll, but your soul was a factory of deceit shrouded in mist. Your perfume was a spell, your smile a curtain, and behind that façade lay a killer’s mind. Not of the body, but of peace, of trust, and of energy; you were a shadow disguised as the very light you promised. Your “I love you” was a code, your embrace a mere theory— an algorithm calculating whatever best served your ends. You were sweet on the cover, but bitter in the reading— a corrupted Bible with chapters filled with doubt. I believed in your purity, while you played the game of manipulation, wearing your halo of innocence, yet harboring a fractured soul. You sold me your kindness as if it were mere merchandise, but the deal was a contract filled with empty clauses. I was betting on your story, while you were betting on mine; and in the end, you were only looking for someone to light up your path. ` --- 🔹 ` Fake “good girl,” your disguise no longer works; your sweetness was a trap, your truth always betrays. I fell for your theatrics, for your voice that held me captive, but time unmasks the things the soul has cast aside. I no longer buy your innocence; I no longer fall for your schemes; your tenderness was a façade, your intentions always sinister. Your lies were a mirror that distorted every trace, but the glass has shattered… and your true shadow stands exposed. ` --- 🔹 ` You were a summer rain: cold, fleeting, and treacherous; it dampened the conscience, yet was never truly real. Your affection was a tax you levied wherever you went, and your "missing me" a trick to make the other person persist. You loved playing the victim, weeping out of convenience, but your tears were a weapon, not an act of conscience. I, believing in your tenderness; you, playing at science— calculating every step with surgical patience. You were a poisoned flower with the perfume of innocence, a trap camouflaged beneath the skin of decency. Your gaze was a riddle devoid of any transparency, and your embrace a labyrinth with neither exit nor coherence. But I’ve snapped your strings now; I am no longer your puppet. I no longer live in your lies, nor in your unfinished story. Your disguise lies discarded, your performance rendered obsolete, and I keep moving forward... while your world closes in. ` --- 🔹 ` You fake "good girl"—your theater no longer deceives; your smile was a knife, your sweetness a scythe. I escaped your storm, while you drown in your own cunning; I am no longer your fuel... let some other idiot keep you company. Your disguise lies on the floor, your truth stands exposed; I learned from your poison, while you remain an enigma. I no longer bear your chains, I no longer carry your trash; your mask has fallen... and your soul is left in darkness.
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--- 🎤 “SANTA’S COSTUME, BEAST’S SOUL” --- 🔹 ` Yeah… The one who played at being the good girl… but was nothing but cheap theater. Today, the mask falls away. ` --- 🔹 ` You arrived with the shine of a shop-window doll, but your soul was a factory of deceit shrouded in mist. Your perfume was a spell, your smile a curtain, and behind that façade lay a killer’s mind. Not of the body, but of peace, of trust, and of energy; you were a shadow disguised as the very light you promised. Your “I love you” was a code, your embrace a mere theory— an algorithm calculating whatever best served your ends. You were sweet on the cover, but bitter in the reading— a corrupted Bible with chapters filled with doubt. I believed in your purity, while you played the game of manipulation, wearing your halo of innocence, yet harboring a fractured soul. You sold me your kindness as if it were mere merchandise, but the deal was a contract filled with empty clauses. I was betting on your story, while you were betting on mine; and in the end, you were only looking for someone to light up your path. ` --- 🔹 ` Fake “good girl,” your disguise no longer works; your sweetness was a trap, your truth always betrays. I fell for your theatrics, for your voice that held me captive, but time unmasks the things the soul has cast aside. I no longer buy your innocence; I no longer fall for your schemes; your tenderness was a façade, your intentions always sinister. Your lies were a mirror that distorted every trace, but the glass has shattered… and your true shadow stands exposed. ` --- 🔹 ` You were a summer rain: cold, fleeting, and treacherous; it dampened the conscience, yet was never truly real. Your affection was a tax you levied wherever you went, and your "missing me" a trick to make the other person persist. You loved playing the victim, weeping out of convenience, but your tears were a weapon, not an act of conscience. I, believing in your tenderness; you, playing at science— calculating every step with surgical patience. You were a poisoned flower with the perfume of innocence, a trap camouflaged beneath the skin of decency. Your gaze was a riddle devoid of any transparency, and your embrace a labyrinth with neither exit nor coherence. But I’ve snapped your strings now; I am no longer your puppet. I no longer live in your lies, nor in your unfinished story. Your disguise lies discarded, your performance rendered obsolete, and I keep moving forward... while your world closes in. ` --- 🔹 ` You fake "good girl"—your theater no longer deceives; your smile was a knife, your sweetness a scythe. I escaped your storm, while you drown in your own cunning; I am no longer your fuel... let some other idiot keep you company. Your disguise lies on the floor, your truth stands exposed; I learned from your poison, while you remain an enigma. I no longer bear your chains, I no longer carry your trash; your mask has fallen... and your soul is left in darkness.
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