bifocal focal vantage- peerless peers through the digitized infinity.
rigid strokes invoke a rant-ish earless veer off the cliff of sanity.
no one hears the jeers. they cant. its a tantrum through silent vanity.
"Play the game to win" while your insides crackle, erupting cinders of calamity.
You hurt. time wanes as your roots leave the dirt. All but a molt is the reflection seen.
bolt, usain. you dolt, you bain. you hope. you strain. Inactions teem.
Reaction's inacting this lack of esteem. this backless sap shit. this cracked-up regime.
This back knows his team, yet the fumble's evident.
The volcano is dormant. His landscape reigns supreme.
__________________
Ahem.
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