The world can't sustain its interest in tragedies.
Past the point of titillation, beyond the opportunity for heroism, where chosen responsability and hopelessness collide
Lies irrevocable fatigue.
I must be very tiring.
(I exhaust myself.)
I feel myself becoming a forgone conclusion.
It's a comfort
Of sorts. The circle grows smaller.
I'll spill my guts until they
All slip away on the offal mess.
It's a leak that no
Matter how I try,
I cannot seem to plug.
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