within one week, art sits in my lap
an idea forms itself inside of my chest
this is unexpected, to arrive somewhere
new and expect nothing but a traveling of emotions
in motion, like camels,
devoid of their weights
this is unexpected, to depart somewhere
familiar, with nothing but a traveling of past emotions
in motion, like stars,
whooshing past you devoid of energy
this is the ends of fates, not sealed
not boxed, just lined up clearly
this is really unexpected:
the tears, tearing, tears
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