Sometimes it all gets so mixed up. The dancing images and words of everything colliding into each other like watercolor on a page. Churning and swirling into this jumbled mess. I don't think i know any more. I dont think i could tell you who i am if i tried. This world has changed me. Rusted me and torn apart the pages to a book thats only half-written. Ive been pushed and pulled and kicked around and ive hoped to just be home. Im tired now, and war-torn. The dust that used to float around has settled down and wont come out with just a tidy wash. Tide wont clean these blood-stains from my tired feet. And everything i once was has drifted just a bit farther down that disappearing shoreline. Maybe ill just turn around and go home for a while...
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