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Inspiration found in the stomach of a mindless machine. Trying to break free from the barrier guarding reality, when inside, its own personality broken. A wasted, faded dream, cared for in the way of a strayed thought. Whats the point? Trying and failing? Getting high off life? A sense of belonging becomes ignored, like a strange disturbance. The heart, the need for rejuvenation. Saving its last beat for a wanted, unneeded specialty; A real pleasure, a necessary discomfort. Why must there be choices?





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