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Does it look pretty when I scrounge in the unknown depths while you live your days high up in the heavens in glory?
It must be pure entertainment to watch dozen like me craning our necks up wishing to be where you are
It's magic, it's privilege it's luck unchecked in a game of chances masquerading as life
Does it look like you have the world in your hands when I slough through waves of discouragement and the perpetual fight to be heard Is it all the same for you? Am I all that to your eyes —just entertainment?
