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Foiled
s o m e times I'm tired,
wired) to feel empty,
tired of lying
and trying; so hard
and lying
about nothing,
and s o m e t h i n g just cracks
and nothing feels okay,
and I [lie] down in the street
and, okay, it hurts to
breath
but I heave myself up each mourning,
and I breath in. this air that
's crushing
my lungs, crushing my soul,
and
crushing me.
I'm exhausted.
and I'm fronting every second of this facade of
handling it.
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