Zero

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Ground zero.
More and more, I feel empty.
Everything I thought was at the tip of my fingers, I question.

Over again, I'm asking...
Why do I do the things I do?
The sewing..
The writing..
The music..
And all that's in between.

I don't seem to remember much..
To play the keyboard sef has been war.
Am I sure of what I know?
And if I know, who enables me?

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