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I don't like multiple feelings inside pushing, pulling ... archaic means; deceiving. My thoughts, reality. Perceiving. Has the water run dry? How can selfish tears still fall from my eyes? I'm a man in a tomb a man in a double prison. I scream into a crowded room and nobody ever seems to listen. Dark skies relinquish strands of hope. Dry eyes are never constant, all the nights I lie awake. I peel myself, layer upon layer. Fold me to the center core see the pain I bury inside, slowly stitch me back together.