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Used to know some guy that worked 6 to 3.

Free only in mind so he changed it to 9 to 5 to see.

What a guy, isn’t he?


Works so hard yet behind the curtains is so damn depressive.

Frozen food, caught remotely in control questioning his purpose.

Searching for another day because he’s already tired of the present.

Tired of people telling him to learn from the lessons.

Shaking his fist up to God, yelling out he’s tired of the facades.

Watched the thoughts and feelings dissipate as he forgot his name.

He knows who he has to be.

Opens the door behind the dreams.

Reaching new heights with his third eye, lucidly.

Turns off the lights and rips off his skin.

In the end, he always knew he was the monster within.

Learning from those who were toxic.

Until the pills, he kept bottled no longer kept him from being honest.

Obsessively compulsive.

Anxieties repulsive nauseous causes.

The effect revealing he is only human.

A man from a kid.

A poet with a twist.

He no longer felt like he was home.

He was all alone and so he decided to make the darkness his own.


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