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If everyone is a part of the same whole, as you say, buried in your layer of dirt, then, why does it hurt so much when someone leaves?
Of dirt...
Stop making names up that are only inside your mind. Where is the fault felt? And frustration? Where? How? When? Who?
Not everyone.
Every man part of a whole? I don't know what proofs are you refering to as to say so, when you seem to be forgetting the ground I step to, the poor that has no sense of smell, and the blind who can't see.
And in the case we accept fate, consent may bring us comfort.
"We're just dirt."
I'm not anyone's appendix. And if I were, then I would take the chance to screw it all up as much as I could. Because everybody knows that an appendix is something that's of no use and that you can get easily rid of but, in the mean time, it may cause you some trouble. Doesn't it?
And if that all is true, then I don't understand why you tear beings that do not harm you out.
In the arms of the ocean I can hear a lullaby, deep inside in the basins.
Your sockets full of tears and I don't know if they mean happiness or sadness since those things are so difficult to say if you don't see someone's whole face.
The faces, the cheeks...
Of one big self?
Anyway, I don't want to leave. Not now. I'll keep on looking to the ground cause I've got used to it, with that face you say it's my own but I don't feel like mine. With those hands of mine that make so many different things at once. With that dirt that swallows us up to send us to a same place.
I was glad to meet you
since you it's me.

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