Author: John Holt IV


So slow things are
Like a winter morning with no sight
It kills me to see all these things
With no passion or linguistically
I cannot ponder to question
Yet rain is everything all at once
Caring for the world is not easy
Conclusions like this are unappropriated
The things I write mean nothing
The things I think are everything
Breathing the heartaches of your thoughts
Overbearing the world of its providence
They dismay the morality of humankind
Goals like this are faulty in every way
The end is to close and the start is right here

------- Author's Notes -------

Your welcome


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