worldchanger

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Take a look at the street; beyond all decorated walls of freedoms and liberties. Remove one coat of brittle paint; you’ll see what’s underneath. Fingers trapped in lapping gunge. Don’t touch, pretend.
Being trapped inside a small cage Not being able to give in an opionon But be slaved to listen to the long unbarebly whispers I hear, but do not speak Because when I do They feel me as a burden  
It’s all up to me. It has always been up to me, to become anything, But I want to flee like a banshee to the Dead Sea To step away from my life and not have answer the question: “What do you want to be?”
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