deepundergroundpoetry.com
unsolvable
what is to be done when
there are no more
mysteries
left:
choke the white
swan?
spread butterflies over
our morning
toast?
write a letter to Kafka
detailing our
sadness?
what is to be done when
there are no more
mysteries
left
and we have yet to
reach the final
chapter
the razor blade sits
on top of the medicine
cabinet and laughs
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