But seldom we belong on hands and knees for another human being, saturating ourselves with their sweat and lies. But still we give our spendings to each hand that is outstretched for quarters, thinking, 'its only a little bit,' till we're holding nothing but a white flag on the sidewalk of your local bank.
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Holding heads up high is impossible when you can't stand. So forgo all conclusions and stretch out, remembering, better to have a straight spine that a bruised noggin.
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Lately my life has taken a turn into a mud pit. Every person I talk to seems to continue this feeling, as if only a few individuals are on my side. The conversations turn into propaganda for a disability I never signed up for.
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Fuck, even writing is a chore.
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