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No, clearly I don’t know the ropes,
always getting tangled
in them and all.

Forever afraid that ultimately,
I’ll be strangled by them.

Yes, I refuse your puppet strings.
I’d rather be a rag doll,
an immobile heap
on the ground
that in the very least
managed to salvage his soul.

Ambition versus anxiety.

Fighting for authenticity in a world
blinded by its own fiction,
lies that infect me,
obscuring my vision.

Constricted by this skin, gasping
for air behind the mask.

Something needs to fucking change.

Must learn to learn,
gain control of my path,
be myself,
show my face



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