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Arcadia

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I sit under the umbrella of my Arcadia,
vacant hours
filled with plastered bliss,
sickly-sweet euphoria
that makes me retch,
this has become my dread,
the mania hidden behind perfect masks,
we all want fulfillment,
beautiful lives
turned to beautiful lies,
this is what we are reduced to,
here in pleasant, perfect, gilded
Arcadia





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