Weaker, and I was called upon
to be the first.
This bitter strength in zeros
is left harmonious - less.
and waiting
is longer
and waiting
is longer
and waiting
is longer
(but shorter if you see) longer yet...
and I am still rambling to my own head
only to the me
who tortures me
in silence.
"Foolish you in fear," he says.
"You could've had my depth."
For only my eyes suffer.
I still know
beauty will be found again.
Nothing is you,
but hair and flesh in water.
Clarity, no.
I do not think
to be,
I break.
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