... because they don't know what they're doing ...

Surrounded by the image of the round dance, the alien being presents itself: surrendered, subjected to help. Each state's name divided into all recognisability, it shows itself to her in unrecognisability. Ignoring the helping hand that knows better. Symptom of the soul's reflection, the sheltered one shatters it in the corporeality of the knower. Long ahead of his time, the event shatters and splinters the surrounding image. But most struck the throwing heart, the outer hands after denial too little, from puzzle's band only less satisfied. In fear, courage's faith lost in the sight of furious hopelessness. The pulling splinter unavoidable, the scarred depth that calls fainting, acting bizarrely for the sake of seeing. Every ray of light in the remaining self-image of the mirror, penetrated by thick black, constantly searching for its own glow. But the few open eyes in the minority feel the pain of others in the flesh, while the masses sleep in the consortium of rules. The de-escalating sense relieves itself. Symptom. System.

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