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I am losing my identity
to this pain
a slow and meticulous dissection
its shiny scalpels of hate
cutting into
the things I used to know
the things I used to stand for
the lessons I painstakingly
stood in line for
to earn and partake of
being harvested from my soul
to be transplanted elsewhere
and replaced with false

I am coming undone
in the wake of the loss
of something I never really had
and I am either going to
bleed dry and fall asleep
or shrivel up and cease to exist

and I used to be so powerful
.

brooklynbridge

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