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I pull my lip.
once everything went dark.
if you look real close, we’re all made out of dots.
an immense fear of being stark raving mad.
that time I was a wanted rebel in the sixties.
I just really want to feel like myself.
I pull my eyes down.
possibly trying to prove I exist.
a journey of discovery, ahead.
I keep forgotten objects.
I see myself, in a different universe.
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