No creativity.
No imagination.
Nothing to set my mind free from the constant internal conflict that i'm cursed by.
No words that want to come together to form a meaningful piece that's worthy to be read.
This can only be blamed on myself... For I've lost reason to hate, to be sad...
I've become content with few emotions, no reason to have the rest
A mask I shall wear forever more
A fake smile, a lie amongst the other lies...
This allows me to hide in plain sight and not need to care as I once did..
Though I think it is impossible to never love...
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