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Inferior to the faces hanging over me.
You choose to join them, I remain unaccepted.
So what's left for us... paper mache conversations?
So what is left for us? Back to the nothingness we started at.
I've devoted a world and you can't spare me pity.
Your words have threaded this web of rejection.
I can only promise that I will unmask the faces hanging over me
(The only thing I will ever be is a memory).