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Summer Night Backlash Seeping trigger of despair, shadows naive thoughts as they bounce recklessly through my war torn grey matter. A hunter unburdened by disguise, strikes with nonchalant impulse, dismantling my foundation one brick at a time. Melting into my heat sink bed, putrid August air permeates the skin, wilting my last defenses, as the phantom of doubt makes his rounds. Water under the bridge and sands of time mean nothing when you are stuck between the beginning and what may lay beyond; for sometimes the wind does not blow and water turns stagnant, but you are still very much just right here. |
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