We live in disgust and everything around us begs us to give in and fall apart. Defeat is anchors dropped by the word and sewn onto our hearts. Failure is placement we can’t choose but rips us from our birth. Sometimes I feel so useless in changing any of the world’s problems and our movement seems to not be going anywhere.But everything matters whether it seems significant. Borders are made with ability to break and bend. Your fist is a muscle the size of your heart. Everything they build we can help to tear apart. I refuse in believing that I can’t change a fucking thing. I refuse to let my actions to be ruled out by majority. Yeah, maybe it’s too late to actualize a world I’ve only seen in the dreams, but just because so much of what I love is fucked doesn’t mean that I can’t find to try.
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