Beautiful Disaster

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They whisper to come and waste your time on the night.

The vibrations in your body suffice for the time but the sun will rise.
The night is easy to thrive in, with no commitment, no responsibilities.
The day is the torture, you have to live with a leash.
The chains, they surround me with threats to not break free.
I am habitual as a survival technique.
I am breaking my habit with the whispers and the ones that used to be scream.
They say I'm wasting my life by trying to live free.
I can't tell who is right the whispers make me feel something.
The screams are filled with truth that hurts too much.
I like the way it feels to not know where I will be tomorrow.
I don't want to know where I'll be next year.
I don't want a nine to five.
I want to feel something.
 

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