You
think you know. But you will never know. You are
trapped in the network. The hallway has
no exit. The bicycle has no wheels. If you step outside of the red lines there is
nothing to stand on. You will fall, and not remember how to scream. Because you are a story I sold for a million howls of
laughter. For a million screams of
pleasure. I tore
you into tiny pieces and gave those pieces to anyone who asked. No one cared then, and no one cares now. You cannot escape what you were meant to be: a piece of lint to be flicked away, blown into nowhere.
Nice try.
Don’t
tell me you don’t know
don’t
tell me you don’t know
here we are and away we go...
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