I drown within chaotic puddles, but my eyes see a sea.
What of my fake leg? As this misanthropy will be my destruction.
If this is a test, these burdens consume my short-lived life,
Knowledge of disgusting animal nature - driving me skeptical and jaded.
All the progress in our wake, give or take, is this the end?
All these horrible masterpieces, is our growth for amusement?
Never focus outward to relieve pain, to build and mend a broken soul.
It isn't easy to persuade my beliefs, I cannot ignorantly persist in falsity...
Everyone is akin, yet there will always be (un)necessary opposites.
The one who abuses, and the one that rapes all resistance away.
That is... assuming that we all yearn for misconceived "originality".
What a species indeed, getting fucked up even on our last heyday.
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