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but most days
some days, I’m happy
 and courageous
 and on those days, 
 the world seems
 like fresh blood
 coursing through my heart.
 
 other days, 
 I’m cynical and 
 dying 
 and those days
 the world seems to be 
 slicing 
 through my skin
 
 but,
 most days,
 I’m nothing,
 nothing at all.
 and on those days,
 the world
 is the ice in my veins,
 the stagnancy in my soul

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