In reference to the above topic.
How does it feel, to be human?
To gladly feel a part of this existence, to be able to get the most of life.
How does it feel to be happy?
Does the surge of emotion last, or is it similar to the feeling of being blown apart?
Flooding at first, but eventually fades like paint on a house.
Yet could it be this little wisp of bitterness, this drop of corruption, this non-existant writer, has found reason to live?
Fighting the battle for power
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