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Literature Text
i feel like broken goods.
so utterly fucked up.
beyond repair.
it's been eight years.
i'm not better.
even if i say i am.
twenty days from now
i will fall apart
into fine dust.
so utterly fucked up.
beyond repair.
it's been eight years.
i'm not better.
even if i say i am.
twenty days from now
i will fall apart
into fine dust.
Wtf is wrong with my brain?
I should not be allowed to think.
I should not be allowed to think.
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