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Cliches we all are
but most don't know by far
The collective
the most odious silent thief
Each self
is a cell
By all means
walk
with me
but we should not talk
New clothes
don't change a person
such people could
still live in their past prison
The mind
is the gate-keeper
the heart
is the house-owner
Time in mind, the dark was approaching unhurriedly, surely as promised obsessively coming for us.
Slithering slowly, hearing their deafening screams in violence, violently breaking  the silent silence.

I then saw it , in the depth where it sprung from
I lost my consciousness and began a rebirthed walk to the abyss of absence.

My familiar mind a stranger as the decay journeys to the my souls core
It singes to past lives, happiness now a adjective only in dreams i confess.
Collaboration between mark and I,
It's kinda fly
Taking turns to come up with lines
We both chilled, so it was nice
Writing is the best thing since rice.
Death.
Has no view in hindsight.
This realisation is so true
with the first breath we take
moves us closer to death.
Once its gone, theres no undo
no respawn, only the living memory of you.
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