An Archangel is blazing yet somewhere within me.
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But nowhere is what Iíve said New, Unique, or Unexpected.
I am not one of the Great Minds of our Age,
But Merely an anarchist living off of the scraps
That previous generations have thrown me.
I have no mind of my own,
Borrowed thoughts and siphoned phrases
Iíve lost my own and so have leased anotherís.
A clichť tragedy in a handful of spoken words
And a reflection upon my own redundancies.
"Perfection of self is the highest philosophy, one which most will never aspire to, nor admit to if they had." -Anon.