When i forgot to count my fingers and worry how to hold my hands did i even have the slightest of chance to see any beam of hope. Any light that shone through my cynical lobes seemed to be absorbed by the blank velvet backdrop to the stage on which i stood. Always putting on a show. Preaching some kind of honest gospel of life and truth that i had no comprehension of. Pure? Real? Actual? Clueless. Its drips into my being as i become ready. Ready to become it. Im becoming a little more ready to become someone else. Someone new but the same. See i'll never outgrow myself. I'll be there to meet me there.
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