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Jun 2021
I hate you like the hoarse, dry throated cockeral hates the rise of morning sun. A hatred that repeats itself over and over with closed eyelids. It is a strange emotion to hate with hope, as all creatures do that something miraculous will emerge from the same, tired nothingness. A foundation built on what if's and maybe's. when in reality everything always repeats, always.
Written by
Anna Josephine
193
 
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