Concentrated Thinking
Twisted fragments of wasted sympathy creates such a imagery of the words I’m too afraid to release. Foggy trails of wasted tears pressure the core elements of my esteemed patience and this infuriates the growing seeds of my enflamed existence…
What truth is viewed through the shadow of mirrored glass, hides in the sand which shields the distorted dust of my stuporous past. I am free in such enclosed surroundings, drowning in a sea disparity… screaming aloud fragments of my personality fearing no one hears me… but me!
I am gentle with such violent executions of my displayed values of the man I wish to be… sadly unknowing of the future I struggle to have, I am violated to such conformity.
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