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A certain point in life must be meant to feel like there's a blockade.
The result of a dying dream, hopelessness and wasted rage.
Thoughts become so complex, it's hard to express ourselves.
All this time, blind to the fact that we were hurting ourselves.
When thoughts become simpler, I begin to think clearer,
Like the reflection of my past life becoming alive inside a broken mirror.
I'm haunted with bad memories. I discard unrealistic reveries.
I search for balance and symmetry within the matrix of self-destructivity.