another evening victim of the invisible hand this night won't be any brighter or colder but colder nights are coming coming colder nights are coming I am running out of songs to sing I have been left dry in the brutal sun for so long I could take my chances any night not tonight tonight, I am just a plain coward scratching the surfaces on which beautiful things grew this poem is just another lie I write truths only in paragraphs. Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.
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Omg! “this poem is just another lie / I write truths only in paragraphs.”
I feel like I get this so much. I often feel the same way about my own writing. It’s not intentional, but poetry can be interpreted nearly any way. Paragraphs seem to be more clear somehow.
Anyway, I love poetry. Maybe because life is also not literal. I don’t know. But to me this is golden. Beautifully written 🙏👌
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