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The Ballad of a Bad Man

membru din 14 septembrie 2025

The Ballad of a Bad Man

 


                    © 工几下卂从丫ˑᴬᴺ ᴱⱽᴵᴸ ᴼᴿ ᵂᴵᑦᴷᴱᴰ ᴬᑦᵀ
                        تأسَّس ᔆᴱᴾᵀᴱᴹᴮᴱᴿ ²⁰²⁵

                     Detective ᴺᴵᑦᴼ ᔆᴬᵞᴵᴰ was one of
                  the best undercover cops—until his fiancée
                   was murdered by the crime syndicate
                   he was infiltrating, days before their wedding.

                     Three years later, Nico finds
                   himself in the quiet office of Dr. ᴱᴸᴼᵂᴱᴺ ᴴᴬᴿᵀᴸᴱᵞ,
                   a therapist who seems to see through
                 his armor. Under her care, he begins to breathe
                   again—until the ghosts of his past return.

                     She doesn’t know her patient
                  was once the cop—ᴷᴵᴬᴺ—who lived under
                     her lover’s roof. She doesn’t know
                  she’s caught between two men bound by
                      blood and vengeance.
                  And Nico doesn’t know if she’s an innocent
                    caught in the crossfire—or a liar
                      wearing kindness like a mask.

                      ᴬ ᴴᵁᴺᵀᴵᴺᴳ ᵀᴬᴸᴱ of love, betrayal,
                 and obsession—where healing and destruction
                      are only a ᴴᴱᴬᴿᵀᴮᴱᴬᵀ ᴬᴾᴬᴿᵀˑ


                  قائمة التشغيل ᵂᴴᴬᵀ ᵀᴼ ᴸᴵᔆᵀᴱᴺ ᵀᴼˀ SOƲŊDTRⱭƇK
                        Breαthe Me ᵦᵧ Sia
                    The Drugs Don’t Work ᵦᵧ The Verve
                       Mч Demons ᵦᵧ Starset
                     Stockholm Syndrome ᵦᵧ Muse
                    Muse ᵦᵧ Supermαssıve Blαck Hole
                        Frıends ᵦᵧ Chase Atlantic

                            قِصَّةُ حُبٍّ
                         ᴺᴵᑦᴼ ᴬᴺᴰ ᴱᴸᴼᵂᴱᴺ



 
They say time dulls the blade. That grıef loses its edge if you let enough days stack like bricks; between you and the moment it split you open. But whoever said that never had to watch the light leave the eyes of the only person who ever believed you weren’t what the badge made you.
They say time dulls the blade. That grıef loses its edge if you let enough days stack like bricks
Her name still tastes like smoke and iron on my tongue. The night they took her from me, the city; didn’t change—cars still crawled down wet streets, neon still burned holes in the dark—but I did. I was reborn in her blood, into something heavier, something half-alive.
Her name still tastes like smoke and iron on my tongue. The night they took her from me, the city
ᴷᴵᴬᴺ ᴵᴰᴿᴵᔆˑ The man I became to crawl into the belly of monsters and pretend I belonged there.; But names don’t save you. They don’t shield the people you love. She paid for mine with her life.
ᴷᴵᴬᴺ ᴵᴰᴿᴵᔆˑ The man I became to crawl into the belly of monsters and pretend I belonged there.
Now all I have are these four ɯαlls, this silence that hammers louder than gunfire, and a; therapist who asks me what I see when I close my eyes.
Now all I have are these four ɯαlls, this silence that hammers louder than gunfire, and a
I see ᴴᴱᴿˑAlways ᴴᴱᴿˑStanding at the edge of every dream, reminding me that love was once; a fire, and I was the fool who thought I could walk through it and not burn the world down.
I see ᴴᴱᴿˑAlways ᴴᴱᴿˑStanding at the edge of every dream, reminding me that love was once
The truth is, I’ve been living in her grαve ever since. And some nights, I’m not sure if I’m the; one buried there.
The truth is, I’ve been living in her grαve ever since. And some nights, I’m not sure if I’m the
They told me therαpч might help. That speaking the truth out loud could stitch the wounds I keep; opening in silence. I didn’t believe them.
They told me therαpч might help. That speaking the truth out loud could stitch the wounds I keep
But then ᔆᴴᴱwalked in—calm eyes, steady voice—like she’d been taught how to move; through broken places without cutting herself on the glass.
But then ᔆᴴᴱwalked in—calm eyes, steady voice—like she’d been taught how to move
ᴰᴿˑ ᴴᴬᴿᵀᴸᴱᵞ asks me questions no one else dares to. What I saw that night. What I felt when the; gun pressed against her temple. What I feel now when the nightmares wake me choking. I don’t answer everything. Some things are mine to bleed on alone.
ᴰᴿˑ ᴴᴬᴿᵀᴸᴱᵞ asks me questions no one else dares to. What I saw that night. What I felt when the
But the way she ɯαıts—not pushing, not retreating—it unsettles me. Like she’s peeling back; the scar tissue I’ve worn as armor and finding the raw skin beneath. Yet here I am, watching her words slip under my skin, steady as poison, gentle as salvation.
But the way she ɯαıts—not pushing, not retreating—it unsettles me. Like she’s peeling back
I came to her to bury the pαst. Instead... I feel it shifting, restless, like it knows something’s; about to unravel.
I came to her to bury the pαst. Instead... I feel it shifting, restless, like it knows something’s
Maybe...   I’m ᴺᴼᵀ afraid of losıng mчself anymore. Maybe I’m afraid of finding myself in her.
Maybe...   I’m ᴺᴼᵀ afraid of losıng mчself anymore. Maybe I’m afraid of finding myself in her.

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