Because writing doesnt bite. And I dont have to try. And my soul isnt scraped out like a fucking fruit. Because I lost my skin in this fire and blades are ends of a feather. Cause no one cares enough as I did. No one will ever care or reciprocate my echo because no one can just trust as I do. Unfortunately, im in this crux of a burden. Mundayne the antonym for my existance of emotion and feeling in a world where few carry a soul to bury.
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