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Oct 2021
there is this strange,
soft buzz in my vision
static words waft across
the canvas of my consciousness
devoid of connection
roots stem into branches that die
any lie i’ve told might as well be truth
this disconnection starts beneath my tooth
i try to relate through a slate of grey
but every shade is skewed by rain
i have not had a true friend since i was
maybe…
eight
collin
Written by
collin  30/M/coming home.
(30/M/coming home.)   
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