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  • Writer's pictureNick Villers

This Only Means What You Want It To Be.

Riffs fall from hooks I’ve heard from the past.

Let my lungs scream in peace.

All I hear is your nostalgia and your intolerance.

A moment of repression.

I’m back where I started.

Oxygen machines.

Mean nothing without grace.

Grace began but gave up.

Give up your hands for your hope.

You can only count on yourself.

As always nothing.

Leave the oxygen out of this.

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