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Oppressed breaths, changes laid against my chest, stumbling over the many same old silly mistakes of the pretentious self proclaimed righteous group of beings, multiply by the careless choices stuffed into our hands by incoherent leaders, scars of the past marks new beginnings for each mornings writes a different story.
Hands. Stuffed with forced mumbles rolled into fists filled with trapped opinions of the rights waiting to be freed and punch the transparency hollow air. Unpredictable.
As I sit here and unfold the wilted state of reality, I am forced to blink countless of times before sinking in the sad truth and consequence of our tainted selves that leads us to where we are now.
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