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a few constructed thoughts feed on dead and living things,
face down in the dirt on a beach you lie
ordering your mind to obey,
reckless you thought confined youll stay,
beneath the rubble you reside
not in those dreams of space,
i see the hidden image you painted
with your mistakes,
even noticed how you put them on a canvas made
of your own pain, but you lied it down with your finger remember,
no brush would do, all the colors of your blood
so so true