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Exert
i taste imperfection,
find safety there,
i long for my open wounds,
where's the salt?
i breathe in death fumes,
like cyanide gas,
it eats my face,
like a schizophrenic.
what the hell am i saying!?
and why am i telling you!?
it's not your business,
get out of my life.
enjoy the real, minus the fake,
except for my energy,
which i can no longer...
exert.
Exert
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