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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: June 08, 2018

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Submitted: June 08, 2018



 What is known to the unknown can only be known to those who don’t know; 

Endless deceit. Restless belief, struggling to find the answers we seek.

 Slowly we bleed. Answers of being, wanting things we all think we need.

 Broken inside, we begin to arise. Lost in the tides with the god of the mind.

Growing infest, with the fall of the rest, we adapt to the stress in the midst of the test.

 Stuck and ongoing. Ever seeking, never knowing. Young, and still growing with knowledge overflowing.

Maximum capacity at the end of lives catastrophe. Disregarding this anatomy, in wake of this calamity.

Expect the things we borrow, the lives we’ve lead to follow. Hoping that tomorrow will be the end of our sorrow.

Weak with this stupidity, to blind the sight so vividly. Praise to the omnipotence, of a ruling mass affinity.

We cling to this persuasion, atutonomous installation. Perplexed by the creation that we have so created.

 Begin the path to formulate accumulate, and reiterate. In order to eradicate this apparatus we facilitate.

Focus on the relevance. This significance in our intelligence. Overwhelming evidence, with what remains self-evident.

What is known to the unknown can only have truth   When you continue to question what you thought you knew.

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