Fabricated Line

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Soulless voids parade about

My paranoid agonized scream

Brings back a memory of tomorrow

Where nothing exists, all happiness terminated


An empty pen lay on the floor

Rendered useless by lack of ink

Forsaken, dried up, devoid of your words

Once greatly valued as a portal of worlds


A dead flower holds no beauty

A lifeless corpse, no warmth

Such is the belief of these shells

So stubborn and firm in their imaginary standards


If I step out of the fabricated line

I'll be locked away, no potential, no free will, nothing

Looking at it that way, nothing will change

But the size of the prison

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