Gut level, below it all.
Out of duty — just here.
Feeling like a knife’s 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 we’ve 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 =B3How it is=B2.