You are seeking to see the world rot in the palm of your hand.
Built again with the pages you've written in.
Kick through every pane of glass, choke out any feral thoughts you have.
Cast stones.
Swallow hole.
You were spit into this mess.
On your knees with open hands.
Gold enamel forged in thought.
A kingdom built in a swamp.
It's sinking.
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