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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Experience >> ID #1580508 |   |
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FAME
Oh, to be so twisted. How exhiliration must tremble inside one's heart, as one stands drenched, motionless. Shall one exhale, and awaken noiseness inside the panic? To sense fawning, folks shore and crowd, chest to chest, stares of worship, cameras for posthumous rapture. Ah, to be twisted, bizarre, dead from one's fantasy of one's self. This be fame.
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