You cannot see that I am crumpled paper a topographical map barely revealing a landscape born of calamity angry collisions deform the surface from below.
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You cannot know that I am well-coiffed artifice an ailing woman intent on concealing the corrosion poison pills can’t reach prescriptions only lead to more prescriptions.
You should know that you were salve when platitudes burned to pure tinnitus taking stock of sword and shield you asked about the girl beneath the armor.
