I had to step back to breathe.
Internal attack on me.
The well's running dry for good.
Same goes for my eyes, they should!
In the end I realize we're dust from the stars.
A strange sensation is all that we are.
And we wanna be more even though we're unsure of the space we're in.
I don't mean anything and the value I bring isn't worth a cause.
Nothing at all
Nobody's there.
All that we do
Nobody cares.
And then the dust is gone.
Conniption fit.
Conniption fit.
The bigger picture is beyond a carbon fissure on its own.
Who will find what
When we're all done?
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