The mediocre probability

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Strip me of my heart and soul, remove these foul mechanisms and let me run without them.

Release me from this prison of flesh, I evoke Gods' warranty, I am unhappy with this product.

Erase my essence, wipe my existence away from the minds of whosoever finds the time to think of me.

Reassign my purpose, find someone stronger, someone willing to worship inside a church building.

Have mercy on whatever's left, deny me life after death, I wish to no longer exist.    

Forgive my weakness, the pain I feel is probably mediocre but in truth, so is my existence.

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