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(I want to feel nothing)
I can’t say that I’ve never fantasized about my own funeral and who would be there
I’ve dug my own grave with notebooks filled with nothing
While the crash and slow recoil of a lake front
Quietly defines nature without the use of words
Frayed edges prevent paper cuts
So I ripped every page
Justifying through aesthetic
Romanticizing distractions
The summer sun hurt my eyes
