Packaged causes. I felt the damage, and read their clauses.
I looked back on the average of counted losses. It’s not a lot to process.
Becoming a possession turned into weaponized nonsense.
I did my best with a clogged-up conscience.
I’m comfortably obsessed with the hunt for progress.
I’m a jeopardized mind with a ritualized conquest.
Forgive my lies when I’m unresponsive.
I used up time as a verified novice.
Viewing the crime is the coziest I've been in this over-glorified hospice.
I missed the true nuances that subdued logic.
In a class of its own like an overdue project.
I’m a low-grade mark, though, I’ve got the concept
Take the art out the heart then all you're left with is he whose contempt
I choose to start at the part where smart remarks are content.
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