The blank black page
I'm a blank page,
that's been bleached,
and seen in ages
and here or feared.
I'm not anyone
a something,
just I hope to begin,
I hate society's fun,
Its not entertaining.....
Its not anything,
drawn to curtains
Where to begin
better to be withering
bugs set in your ears
That one with the clippers
and silent dreams whispering
a match to that crawling
of young curious drawing
The hair that's being trimmed
and dizzy able to be stunning
Like a lightning of such feet
and the healthy of farms' wheats
less stateliness now running
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