This is no pen,
but with it, I write on flesh.
On paper, it drips
the emptiness that is me--
filled only by a rhythm.
I am alone,
yet where I stand
I am the world
where darkness revolves.
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Caerberu's poetry about love, depression, and the beauty of life.
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1 comment:
awww. you are a great poet. i should write one just like this.
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