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Literature Text

Calculating lights as they flicker about outside,
Often the turning of my stomach is not far behind.
The laughter so distant and distant is the chatter that fills the confines of my mind, I do not accompany them nor does my soul abide.
Blankets cover me with such malcontent, and if ever given the chance would smother me in the blink of an eye.
I do not wish to pout about the time, but I must agree that it is my water to my wine.
I am not me, but you are you, so how can I be in such fortitude.

Cackling glares and hysterical eyes, you do not know me, so how can you decide?
Burning turning and drenched within watery vials, I am lost while you are found.
Even if it was to be lifted, I would not so easily find the time to set myself aside.
I do not hope, I do not cry,
I only dream a sweet lullaby.
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