Some people dream their career,
Some dream their love,
But when both are in the gutter,
What are my dreams now?
I have nothing but the pieces.
What purpose do I have left in life?
To sit at a computer and program useless shit?
To write what only I will read?
To envy those who hold a hand?
I used to dream of being a hero,
But how can you be a hero,
When you're the one who needs help?















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