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Cut that out

This digital screen, these provisioned dreams for our collective conscious

What a glorified team, this planet

it's rulers

All painted and standing in blood coated sand

from conquests;

Met with unforgetting eyes

they birth wolves that howl in the day

only to speak their own name

as the world

and no one else

 

Cherish me

my hidden pride

I know you're there

beyond my self concerning sorry soul

and beyond my self control

as I was born

in front of this digital screen

as some dream of

myself

for myself

of myself

and unto thyself

 

Well,

it's time to cut that out

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Written by
nicholas-james-berlincourt
American
Published
Dec 13, 2011
Lines·Words
24·102
Permission

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