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Portrait

Do I only have conviction

When my opinion lives in isolation?

Is this portion of reality

A frail and tangential foundation?Who mapped the course

To this quizzical, grotesque junction?I can't romanticise these demons anymore

I can't serenade another empty balcony

I can't endure one more eve on this fetid ship

With the insincere bounty of a mutinous soulThe machine grinds ever on

With a radiance perceived by wretched eyes

That lead me home again when I'm blinded

By the truth within my lies

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