I want to know who was there, and what they wore, and what they said. And I will strip them of the glory they felt whilst pulling me to an end.
the pedistool started to burn my feet, and the sunrise lit up the obsolete parts of me; I suddenly felt incomplete.
I want to know who was here, and what they wanted, and who they feared. And I will hold them up to the light in hope that they, too, feel despise.














Devious Comments
Comments
--
"They call me a poet,
I wonder what they would say if
they saw me from the inside."
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