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Aug 2017
the truth is missing.

a whole town looks

for traces of your

orange red brown hair

after you vanished into

another plane.

the truth is questionable.

you don't know where you are

or how you breathe

or where your flesh and muscle and bones

and wounds have washed away.

was it the other side

or this side?

the truth is stuck.

you push every wall of thin air

and you find that it

is endless.

you shouldn't want to leave.

you can't.
about a book i wrote.
Written by
Spier  18/indonesia
     Ako, -A-, Juniper-Mae Gittens, --- and Born
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