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Dec 2021
i am buckethead; i cannot see the light.
a filter of dirt; the light thru me is darkness.

i am the word
stained by attachment,
a world prism i am.

i wish to be as the full moon to the full sun, but i am no mirror; i am a factory; i create death.
Lucas
Written by
Lucas  temporary
(temporary)   
  381
   Heather and Cherries Miedema
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