What I think

That I will never really write anything meaningful.

That this is just a waste of time.

That I am insignificant and time doesn’t exist.

That my mind is a circling tornado of lost people

screaming into the void

asking to be remembered

begging to be forgotten.

That they wander endlessly in a world with no corners

no edge

nowhere to hide.

That they are triangulated into existence

not allowed to escape

not allowed to meet each other

to find solace.

That they will just wither away suddenly.



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