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Wings Above Generations.

Roar from the rabble,
cry from the herd,
yet here I stand:
unaffected.

Why should I bother
myself? Oh-so
fucking callous now.

I am nothing.
You are nothing.
Really.

We’re all here winging
it here and the weight

of generations
push down upon us:
they have fucked

it all —
our inheritance —
and we bang
away upon it,
driving deeper.

Holding back,
I will stop at nothing…

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