Never knowing what I want
Past and present have taught
Your goals are your own
And a stranger can’t lead you home
Fabrication assigns a label that lifts the pedestal more
The citric acid; it creeps in my pores
Under my skin, in my blood stream
It sits there
Stagnant and pathetic
It spills through, and keeps me from giving myself any credit
Stagnant and pathetic; it keeps me from everything
This vessel treading water with the tide
Bringing to the shore debilitated eyes
Body and mind consciously collecting scrapes of our wounded pride
The measure of еще тексты
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