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I'll glide, drifting through rugged, rapacious winds,
Smiling all the while, as moisture and life is stolen from my porcelain skin.
Intoxicated by the adrenaline saturating my veins,
You know I'm detached enough not to feel the pouring rain.
So like an infant taken from a sensitive, sheltering safe haven,
I'll accept my fate- my helplessness and let the sickness set in.
Yet, I am "just a child" as much as I am reckless and insensitive.
The reveries I fight to exist with in,
Never fail to elude me, temporary and incessantly broken.
Regaining consciousness astray from the pact,
I'll remember the actuality that I've got a long way back.
However, separated, I'm serene,
And I can't seem to collect myself to determine,
Do I depend on the others, or am I better off forgotten?
As the fleeting flurries of this frenzy begin to dissipate,
I float, free to foreign grounds- a fine resting place.

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