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Internal walls crushing the atmosphere

So compressed yet so wide open

A field I know I've seen so many times

A soft breeze saying "hello again"

What feels like hollow scratches

Where sentiment is left to starve

Diving into the old waving grass

I am overcome

I am overburdened

A distant shard of myself

It's a shroud of the past

Of the only things that ever gave me joy

And I wallow in the feeling