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Decembre Mar 30
I cannot romanticise the fact
That I have no clue what I mean
My thoughts are an uncoordinated scramble
Here this
That
Something else
Something something
Something with meaning
Elusive words I pass through like mist
It is cloudy in my mind
I itch to knock on a door
And have it be Clarity who opens
But I only ever stand on the threshold
My feet glued to the ground
As a voice calls “come in!”
It feels so immature when I can't find words to say what I mean.

— The End —