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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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