There is no pain you can inflict on the past versions of myself. Not even the "me" that was here yesterday. I have slipped it as perfectly as the insect that molts. It is an outfit removed and left on a bed by an open window. Eventually, this is what the name entire becomes.
Nevertheless, it can rise and return to you, if you wish.
Somehow (still) it can embrace you, this emptiness like clothes.
It has such a primitive heart.
Nevertheless, it can rise and return to you, if you wish.
Somehow (still) it can embrace you, this emptiness like clothes.
It has such a primitive heart.
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