I came to
pen another poem for you,
but even every unwritten poem
is you.

There is only as much space, only as much time,
Only as much desire, only as many words,
Only as many pages, only as much ink
To accept all of us at light-speed
Hurrying into the Promised Land
Of oblivion that is waiting for us sooner or later.

At first, that’s who I was. I wanted to know more about this boy who lives among us, but who never truly speaks… But now I feel like finding out about him is one of the ways I found out about myself. I did not expect to love his words. I did no expect to find myself in the.

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