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I am but a farce, a satire of stability
Insecurity is an uphill struggle
It's me versus the world
The shore still starves for another
Novel of my shipwrecked being
Tied up, dried, and I'm still breathing
The sands of time, for me, are running out
My hands shake in apprehension
Of every action, I'm guilty of playing the victim
Just like the embrace of arms that made you
Will surely destroy you
It's time for your panic
Then it kills and makes you manic
Making its way inside—relax; it's all right
Panic grips your frantic breathing
I can't breathe, I can't breathe, I can't breathe!
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