Gut level, below it all. Out of duty just here. Feeling like a knifes being twisted in the hole of how it is. False hope, an inch of pride that died when I left to hide from non stop battering of conditioned opinion. Rest assured but not assured, all is well, but I think weve dealt with the fear for far too long. Unborn suffer the norm. Born to this I thin not! I stand against till the shit drops. We see all but do nothing, in the hole of How it is.
assured, hole, battering, conditioned, norm