We bare blood of the same veins.

Born from different wombs

But bleed like brothers

Forged from forgotten ruins.

Our past soars and swells alike.

Forgotten to all but forever bursting.

Our scars scratch unknown sources

To find similar scabs.

Scared to become personal gods

We wander through somber time

To find sickness in victory's

Sweet shallow absurdness.

Though breath feeds 4 lungs

The air is still wearisome.

And cumbersome carelessness

Corrodes our true character.

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