<center>i am a n e r v o u s w r e c k
this thick breathing in of impending doom
gives my lungs pneumonia like it's
incurable, and i think i will be sick
all over myself</center>
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"You pile of stones, you waste, you desolation, I'll stuff you with misery till it comes out of your eyes. I'll change your heart into green grass, and all you love into a sheep. I'll turn you into a bad poet with dreams."