Well, here's my Poem/song:
I hear it every minute
I run to the nearest door
It is infinite
Directs me to the moor
The sounds of lachrymose
A blinding wall above the ground
Let me through
It is what I have found
To bleed my whole life away
It's self-inflicted
Just to Stop Myself
From being addicted
The entropy of it
is being unused
Unavailable, like the decadence
of being in muse
The fine edge
slowly sinking in
But quickly rapping
against the layer
And indefinably
The fluid exits
And leaves adesign
Just a little memory
And still there voices won't stop
They won't attend t what's real
What's Right, just what's not proper
But still repeats the gory answer
Even though I am still at the moor
The door Disappears
But the entrance remains
If only those vibrations
only inside me
will only move no more
The entrance be taken
but the way out
is there
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