Whence Do I Rise? Cold air. I breathe. It's not fair. So I leave. Glass streaks. Called tears. Paving wet streets. My own fears. They rip a path. Into my face. A saddening bath. I can't escape. Then I look up. And there I see. I am enough. I can be free. When will I cease? Whence do I rise? I'm no disease. I'll believe no lies. Cold air. I once breathed. But I did dare. To be freed. So I rise. From out of me.
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