Hate ArcadeMature

Sometimes I forget that I am human.
Sometimes I leave myself behind and that works for me.
Sometimes I cannot breathe, the air it seems just out of reach-
Entertaining my lungs until I feel they may collapse.
Is there a point to that?
Constricted by itself, my throat retreats to someplace else and shit.
Arrives in strange vibrations, rising up from out emergency.
A consistent reminder of some disease,
I swear I do not aim to confuse you, but;
I am auto-cannibal, I've consumed my rite.
Insight see my future tense history, it's mine, all I have to look forward to.
In time all my versions will unite the focal point, I'll invite myself to renewal.
I propose that I don't defeat the purpose, speak up while I have my words and my voice.
I don't know but this imbalance proves worth it.
So presume that I will break my promise, It's not like you have any other choice;
I always will, I hate arcade.
I always will, I hate arcade.

The End

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