on the upside life slips and slides on by, heading for the cerulean sky. Which I gave it.
What does it mean to be so lost in myself. My childhood was an abuse that only through stubbornness I survived. The total brainwash and things of the ike. I have cursed them, my abusers, in ways they might become aware of. And I have things for myself. Like this kind of indulgent solipsism. A soliloquay of sorts.
To the unabashed, be ashamed of yourselvrs. I will save you no longer, and you might even notice.
What joys does the day bring, except joy whatsoever. Ripe for the picking, but not for the wrongdoer. The not listening party. For they will die a painful death. Knowing no forgiveness because it's already been bestowed and it is not suffice for their sin.
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