My stomach a fist
When entering the door
Of predigested decisions
And bland ideas.
The tiny speckle of hope
And possibility of self expression
keeps me going
In and out.
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My stomach a fist
When entering the door
Of predigested decisions
And bland ideas.
The tiny speckle of hope
And possibility of self expression
keeps me going
In and out.
I love this. I’ve felt this way myself.
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