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Nov 2021
Letting go.
It can’t get to me.
Everything dies.
And what’s left is me.
What I want.
Where I am.
The place I created.
The love for people, places and sounds.
Stripped down.
Still a creature.
I’m everything.
Yet nothing lasting.
Yet never dying.
Always changing.
But my love remains.
12-11-21
Angmar Miedema
Written by
Angmar Miedema  31/F/Gouda(NL)
(31/F/Gouda(NL))   
127
     My Dear Poet, TSPoetry, Zoe Mae and Khoisan
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