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Autisma
Poems
Feb 7
The festival (a dream)
It amounts to nothing
When it's taken back
A permanent display of change
But they they just want me to react
All the while I'm sleeping
With nothing really in my head
I guess we should be severed
If you want to cut off my head
And in the throws of finality
The conquest seems more dear
But there'll be no grieving process
Just rumination
At least that one things clear.
Written by
Autisma
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