The existence of me is like the existence of a flower.
It's there, but you never really look at it,
You never really see how beautiful that flower really is,
Sometimes you even step on it.
Yet that flower still seems to live.
Why does that flower keep on living?
It has nothing to live for,
Nobody wants it,
So why?
Does it have a false hope?
Or is it not going to ever give up?
Maybe one day somebody will look upon it
No
Look upon ME!
And say,
"Hello"
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