dreams of a writer
don’t you wish you could have them
write page after page
about your blank
ly staring
at
your
page
empty like your soul
bare
like
your whole universe
is concentrated
onto this
bit of
space
endless
like skies entirely covered with clouds
and you can only wonder
about the neverending
and i can only wonder
where would it end?
neverending is a sumptuous indecision,
an end is a format of mortality
i wish there's a neverland for neverending madness
hadoooooh, capek scrollingnya…..
hehehehehe…. but this is awesome poem…
i was just gon
na leave
an empty
field
white as
but multiply
sez
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no theres nothing else to see
life won't never be easy. we're accursed to live the life of our own stories,
which is
(endless)