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Forced...            
                     To Stay...
                                          To Leave...

As long as there's the force
There's nothing much to do.

Forced...
                  To Remain...
                                         To Fight...

There's nothing much to do
As long as there's the force.

                 ... all right...
All the inventions of all times:
              Hubs to make a world evolve.
Sweet translations...
                         of sentiment spoken seaS
Where interpretation runs wild-free...
and chances for better days can end.
I don't want to be
            All that you claim not to be
But impose on others.

I don't want to be that filth,
            I'm looking for another
But find this and this is gold
            So I keep Golden treasure

I claim I cannot become
            But admire with that heart you sold
And I impose on others to become Gold.

So you say...
What's the truth, dear? You think you know, in this maze of desperate to win souls? more and more and more as they didn't have enough,
They didn't have enough of the poverty of others....
They want to enjoy more...
                                                  more...
                                                               more.
You never fight for any right or wrong,
If you do, you know someone will be there to play with you,
To tare you apart, put you down,
Someone will be
Waiting in the shadow
For the perfect moment to have you flee.

Attack.

You never fight for any wrong that's right,
Your right to be taken, your soul:
Put down and torn apart,
All cavity producers expressing their "sorry *****" : animals too innocent for these games.

Too hard, too hard a take of these sense-less pieces of ****
Turning all elegance in nothing but ****...
Maybe it's all they needed.

' Tad worried...

You couldn't fight for anything that's right for your wrong stood prouder.
To tare a soul apart for you couldn't prove yourselves better any other way.
How could you?
Oh! Don't worry. It's okay. I'm not mad at you.
Not mad at me, at all,
No madness in this house where all illusions brake.

You couldn't fight in any other way, could you?
Not mad at all this, don't you worry,
I'm not mad at myself.
Illusions break: Sorrows: - coming! "
"I am your sorrow, dear. And, as you already suspect, I'm always coming!"
We take showers,
Sometimes long,
To wash away the stench beaten out of our private hell,
Our inner hell's garbage can and the filth deposed on us,
sometimes gladly...

We wash thoroughly our hairs and skin rubbed well,
Use soap and other perfumed work
Of other thoughtful humans
Knowing the same
Need
To make the body
Bearable to live with.

We sometimes put on some cream, perfumed as we hope
That all the stinking flesh will turn somehow into love
- Flower fresh for a few moments in time,
destined to wither, die and dry -

We put perfume on so we can live with our selves,
Our bodies yelling all day log: "You're inSANE! There's no escape from this...!"
But we do have faith...
                                        ... in our products....

To live with one's self,
We wash away the stench coming with regrets beating all the stench out,
Out of our bodies, called the self to contribute.
Selves competing and contributing, putting more filth on,
Cream and perfume helps it all linger;
Times that can be sometimes bearable,
Other times the horror of all senses...

Putting on perfumed products to cover the stench
Of a rotten body
destined to move noses or have them fall.

Waiting while we move around, moving around a body and soul,
Rich winds reminding the Sphinx of duties.
Coming out,
First shyly then standing proud
Against the winds and Sunshine,
Coming out the pores,
each dermal papilla excited
Producing hair germs,
Arrector-pilli muscle stretching on,
Hair follicle sending cells to a transcendence,
Hair shaft show off.
Technically informed
One has to go with a trend,
Find their new soul!
Expression of health
That Today's laughter,
The joy and pride for an accomplished goal.

Technically informed:
What's right is wrong.
Today doesn't like tomorrow the same way anymore.
Find a New excuse, learn some new mistakes
For tomorrow will discharge and turn them into stone.

Technically informed.
Some things remain
And some things go,
Find their new flow
And one becomes soon a thing,
Oh, the horror of the being!
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