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The faith in external theories is something I cannot find.
Neither is the escape door from the room of my mind.
The incentive to conform is one that has never been.
Instead there is confidence in the unsure and unseen.
Slowly I will depend on the strength of my feet.
And abandon my search for shelter in the streets.
Soon I will embrace the crooked lines and unlearn to cleave.
And subdue the hatred of places I cannot leave.

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