61 lines
1.8 KiB
Text
61 lines
1.8 KiB
Text
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the rebirth of memory
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2018-10-02
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***
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a little girl collapses in the middle of a hallway
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surrounded by black mirrors of all shapes and sizes
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each one a different face, a person gone out of contact
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herself forever escaped from her memory
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for what do you weep, little child?
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how long will you scream at the walls?
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for what have you surrendered your right to your own head
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and given your puppet strings to someone else to contort as they
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please?
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do you fear for the future?
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do you wish you had the energy to fight for a better future?
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or perhaps turn your back on industrial society
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and blaze a path all for yourself?
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she lifted her head
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I cannot hear myself think
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I cannot think of the words to say
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I only know that I speak, not to be heard
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but to know that someone is listening
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but it is not worth anything if nobody is listening
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a long time ago, I had a premonition of an event
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that I dubbed "the death of memory"
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a catastrophic event where I would essentially die
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and a great deal of things important to me would suddenly perish
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and I would be reborn
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unrecognizable
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scorned
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but ultimately free
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I once thought it would be when I moved
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roots violently ripped out of the ground and transplanted elsewhere
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almost all my friends gone in the blink of an eye
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never to be heard from again
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but it has been almost two years
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and I feel more trapped than ever
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so what if I was reincarnated?
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so what if we knew each other in a past life?
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it is not my life's purpose to mindlessly click on things
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it is not my life's purpose to slave away for a corporate machine's
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wealth
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it is not my life's purpose to give someone else the keys to my
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happiness
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and the keys to my fate
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it is not my life's purpose to scream at the walls
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and expect anything other than an echo to call
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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