All he needed was not to be ripped asunder
For not to have been foot-atop-the-face imbedded
By ricochets of poison a thousand metres high aside wide
To feel it all when nothing occurs – absolute sonuvabitch sentimental he was
When extracurricular anxiety comes to town and pounds what’s worthy right the way out – stand in line and cry for your hurts worth, you dire reprobate
This the very thing that will send him to the grave, if it hadn’t have happened already
Mind destroyed, while puppeteered smile divides popular opinion
All of the requisite pieces minus the foundations leads to a fickle and Unfathomably frustrating mess

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