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Epileptic nostalgia flooding my veins
as irrelevant pink elephants walk over my shame
what a pain what a pain
my thoughts speak to the main
again and again it’s a one way street
and my blood boils over due to an increase of heat
till everything is blank like a plain white sheet
a decrease of words and an increase of beats
lay road to diabolical schemes of chemical inequalities
that bite at the knees
in hope that they could see
without eyes clouded with lies
and a thirst for the truth before it all runs dry





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