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Words and music, emotion nearly tangible. Strumming rhythms numbly. Something's incessant- a lack of presence.  It has been said that every entity contains in itself the means to its own ends. 
Empty thoughts have no sense of fulfillment My aspirations, desires, and concerns Fill in the empty spaces that cause me To provoke, ponder, and practice Every aspect of life Every aspect of humanity
Life's a beach, the bugs dieLittle ones fall, moma cryLife's a beach, the water dirtyBullies, messin around with nerdiesLife's a beach, the sand is flat
In my mind, there's an empty room Void of light, of sound, Of any outside connection, I only have the faintest memory Of what it used to be An echo of despair, and loneliness,
When I was six years old I sat in a darkened closet hugging my knees to my chest. 
The night whispers- how ye' do, how ye' do, do you have any news? My mind full of fascinations, complications, ratifications      simply   says no. No, new news do I yield to you.
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