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Man 6d
From the minute you blast off,
You get blasted off
From this plane of existence.
Try to run,
We've already fixed the coordinates
And we're coming for the restoration.
Try to hide,
You will find no refugee
Under any rock or in any log.
The lock's come off,
Here comes Pandora!
LC Sep 2019
sadness grips my neck in a choke-hold
its hands cold and rough to the point in which
I don't know if I can escape with life left in me.

— The End —