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thinking creature

i know time is here.
i begged for it to bring
home the barest scratch of
faith,
of reason.

i was a thinking creature until
i met him.
he was inside and i lived.

there was a thin beauty in
adaptions.
it was hurtful
and my head dips from my
lack.

what is the point of building
on false gods; on knowing nothing
and burden?

nothing is ever fruitful in dim;
reading tea leaves and drinking soda
were better.
Written by jessica_orr (Jessica Orr)
Published
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