There is hardship in fighting when the battle is between you and yourself, I tell you.
How can she not hoist the white flag when struggle has to take its floor next to her dawning yawn?
It pains her just each time she untwists herself. She scratches out the disfiguration in her, and
unconsciously been including her whole being. The bullet from her own gun splinters her oneness.
Now she is walking away to gather her every piece thrown somewhere far.
She will save herself.
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