Indy.

Oddly again I felt the same way as them, with some indecency shed on a strangely insightless trip, though insightfully equipped with an endless love I have only rewritten to relive in a thought to forgive.

But why? Were these words falling through me without any chance of creating something we’d rather entirely neglect. Or subject ourselves to, annointed purity I’d rather see than see through. 

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