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The shattered night has shattered down again

just to hold the pieces or shatter itself again?

The veil of the moon is finally drawn 

or the pleasant time is permanently gone?

what am I know? the sentimental or the psychopath

the weirdo or the smart one surprisingly without abs

have I been torn into broken pieces of paper

or am I the one who scissored this taper?

Am I been rebuilt just to get destroyed once more

or this feeling is the freaking feeling of toes in the shore?

carefree, pleased, obliged or should I be sorry 

or should I restudy my history like that of Harari?

my feelings are just minerals in seawater

not only indifferent but making me whole

and sometimes the scope is much broader

yet it pinches in my heart, ya your captive hole

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