Blank pages, blank people

I am a novel not yet written

Blank beliefs, blank morals

I am hiding out for now


Corrupt faces, corrupt fiends

I avoid them at all costs

Corrupt bodies all around

And I am one of them


Dirty balnkets, dirty rags

I cover myself in them

Dirty mirrors, dirty reflections

All stare back at me


Weak harvests, weak reaps

I laugh at their futility

Weak person

I am.


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