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Spaghetti knots

badly bad

The following is bad poetry only because I feel worse, not bad enough to stop.


and what will you tell them

when after all of this

there were moments

i left you speechless


little is like

the loss of the living

except for maybe

the living loss

of the little likes


we are what the sun

could not burn

but what it could not use either


we instead use it

radiate ourselves outward

making it bow each night

to the few of us

who are still standing

though who know

that at least tonight

we sleep


the only rule there is

is to know there are no rules there

where the few have gone

to find only

About kacperniburski

I am searching for something in between the letters. Follow my wordpress or my IG (@_kenkan)


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