answer me know i don't, now

decision Buddha
decide there is no mission
i hate light
they will ever speak
never spear my ink's
my ink's compass
truist
again, decide we aren't a mission
tall clouds can't be ware?
limp and mundane wags
know feedbacks
concepts?
forty twenty seven seven sentences
won many to still your next kick
kicks, gone
out of timecards
my autumns a grain
only a single grain
know fame
just independence
Copyright © | Year Posted 2025

Poem

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