Another bit of writ

My mind still races, like a worrier–still paces, like a warrior–still braces for the impact, tightened up but still thwacked… And I react, but not in the way of how I should act, at least that’s what I’m told, what wait a minute you’re how old? Man that was bold, I’d have never said something so cold, but that’s just a lie that I tell as I watch the days roll by and nobody sees most the times that I cry, & half of the time I don’t know why, but staying responsive is what I try, for the sake of others not myself, I’ve become accustomed to my own slice of hell… Oh well it’s the tell of the tell seen from between closed eyes sorted into where relics just happen to reside and I can preside in the torment brought upon buy everything in your sight, open up your eyes wheres last night–that’s not right was it even day before? Seems like I only just shut the door but the people here say I never been round before and I can’t seem to remember to Which way the door that brings up two words that never get heard due to silence upon top of chaos raging from beyond and all of these people that come from out yonder, it makes me ponder will or will I not squander the times when I’m right in the head and got out of bed, a villain to the ill not the opposite instead get a grip on a slip before a chip falls out, verifying, fracturizing, there goes the mind…


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