Gut level, below it all.

Out of duty - just here.

Feeling like a knife's being twisted in the hole of how it is.

False hope, an inch of pride

That died when i left to hide from non stop battering

Of conditioned opinion.

Rest assured but not assured,

All is well,

But i think we've dealt with the fear

For far too long.

Unborn suffer the norm.

Born to this - i thin not!

I stand against till the shit drops.

We see all but do nothing,

In the hole of "how it is".




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