In not reaching out,
To the thing that seems to be the same,
As what seems to shout,
From your heart as what there is,
Because, let's face it,
Either you think like everyone else,
Or you have to be resilient,
And remember what there really is,
Which is not a lot,
Unless you consider everything you see,
As everything you've got.
Which is alright,
Because there's really nothing else,
Even your most secret thoughts,
Are a reflection of your self.
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