The life that you're in,
For it is only ever the projection,
Of your imagination,
And when you want to get out of it,
Well, that's a conundrum,
'Cause there is nowhere to actually go,
That isn't still an illusion,
Unless you create another one,
Within the one you've been constructin',
Except, rather than having a structure,
It's at your brain's whim,
Which is alright,
If you don't want to live,
But if pain isn't that repugnant to you,
Then life's your only alternative.
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