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Oct 2018
Between coming and going
Nothing stays,
A pencil stabs through paper,
There is no desk.

Thr light scatters,
Elongated, alienated,
Staring at the words.

I find myself in the middle
Of this verse,
Motionless;
Where ever I am
                             is home,
There is no place...
      I become
The unwritten.
The Dedpoet
Written by
The Dedpoet  38/M/San Anto, Tejas
(38/M/San Anto, Tejas)   
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