In my time of dying all i've grown to be
English can't define these feelings
I keep waiting
There's a strange time called trying that's vague like us
I can always try harder which means i never try enough
My mind is always crying
Concentration, saturation
An aquaintance is so naive
Or just a blind soul
Fifty and a month
Is so long for some
Understanding becomes my snair
The harder i struggle, the more confined i become
Does quanity stop at empty
Does quanity stop with you
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