This Sort Of Source

Folder: 
Old Stuff

The deception that I live

To myself and others

When there’s nothing left to give

I’m behind the wall forever



The empty spaces for the pain

There’s nothing in my head

It could be mistaken for insane

To me it’s like I’m dead



The shouting voices feel so real

An echo from the past

The happy man who had to heal

When he saw himself blast!



With all this here together

A stranger in a web

Just a little under the weather

With the son above my head.

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