And here I felt I could move more freely. And here, I thought I'd adjust outside my self-mutiny. Those soul-curdling intentions consequently dry juvenescent tides. We're in yr hands for the last time. I half-assed this past year in seeming agency while ignoring the leaves from the trees of my seeded grief landing around me. Weighted pain seeks to alternate with waited blame devouring its inedible shame in a personal population of pissed decay.
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