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    Waiting for someone to tolerate me.
    Hanging around because I can't leave this cat behind.
    In nine lives if I haven't found something to hold on to,
    why worry? Nobody I care for will be around.

    The only emotion that I can convey when I contemplate my life,
    is an uncompramising, feeling of uncertainty.
    Which is caused by a combination of lack of self respect,
    and an overwhelming lack of company.

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    So I will share my bed with phantom limbs, and live my life in tidy rooms.
    Surround myself with living things that don't know how to move.
    I am like cigarettes and steak and booze, obesity and stress,
    everyone with a bad heart will blame me for their mess.

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