we are all uprooted
from that dormant idea
that each man is an island.
we have times we want so
desperately want to lose-
but me?-
i've lost the sun.
yet this oppressive light is
partly rapture.
subrtact superlatives
multiply by maybe
and you get what i
might have bled
1 comment:
I am horrendous at wording thoughts on poems, so one day when I have improved I will say something more original.
But I really like this.
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