I'm scared.
I live in a bubble.
I'm not content to stay here, oh no.
But I've gotten used to it, you see.
So when I leave to see the world
Will my lungs collapse?
Will by blood run thin?
I'm in here where I can't even experience the changing seasons
Or remember the months that go with them.
The world outside spins and changes
And all I hear are muffled noises.
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