I sat at my computer thinking.
The world turned round in my head,
slipping and spiraling in an automatic motion.
The people I've known no nothing of what was, is, and will be my destiny.
I hold the hand of hope in the shape of shattered memories,
for making more might mark an advent ahead in my hollow shell.
There lies a heart that hasn't had to hearken to the sound of silent solitude,
and what will waiting do but build a bridge between the heart and soul,
the apex of all that I insist on being.
And so I wait,
with my head buried in the sand,
and sit at my computer thinking.
Thinking
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