I walk around now detached from my colleagues. But yet I still cannot hold my head up. My neck drops down and stares at my feet. I guess it's to remind me that I am moving. Going somewhere.
This is not outlook -- this is inlook. I just see and you do not. But man, brother and sister, you are not of my worry. You do not justify me and I do not justify you. We are all our own ego. We are all clay. I cannot condemn you for your mold, but I may challenge. I may reap vengeance on those who have oppressed me. I may call out those who lead silent lives of surface. They haven't any dignity to stake anyway.
Why are we all the bastards and bitches of a systematic equation in which we equal nothing? Why do we submit? I was born to speak on behalf of those who have not a voice.
I am too fast and too much for this building. I run whilst others trod. My love is stifled and my heart becomes blackened.
Sufjan sigh.
I have to save some for June. This is the hardest part.
Nostalgia. She is an enemy.
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