Distance decreases as if time is a dying cockroach.
Plagues enclose, sitting upon this wooden bench.
I am helpless to billions of bullets.
In this moment I am helpless.
Why is it so difficult to see ourselves?
No poem I’ve wrote, nor song I have sung, can halt the army of wrath.
Numbers numbers numbers.
In this moment I am helpless.
Serpents will transform into mice only to drown in the deepest red.
I’ve always expressed my thoughts in colors, but we remain blind.
Numbers numbers numbers numbers.
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