Poem 33

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I cast a spell to remove my emotions

I can feel all of my molecules losing their motion

The ability to care at all has left me.

This isn't a cry for help, it's a eulogy.

I am merely a machine; a mind of the hive.

Sure, I bleed, but am I truly alive?

I shrug at the violence

There is poetry in the silence. 

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⏰ Last updated: Feb 24, 2016 ⏰

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