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a poem
input. output. that is what we do.
I am not miserable in my daily routine.
Oh no. Far from it most of the time.
even in the worst moments
there is still the quiet possibility
that my eyes may light up.
given half a chance
i may curl up in a ball
and read to you these little words i write.
they are all i have here.
no complaints.
no regrets.
im older than i used to be.
its colder than it was
but im warmer and stranger than a red sun
or a broken sky
or a bespoken way
im feeling for the first time
i hope i get away
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