By any other name ...
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Everywhere I walked
the scent of vagueness had been there
in the need to describe
what it was in an overbearing fruit,
what it had been with the weather;
why I always had to repeat myself.
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Even while I slept,
petals kept falling from the ceiling
and I tried shielding myself from this,
the indelible scent of vagueness,
rubbing off on the blankets.
The weather had not been forgiving
so I always had to repeat myself
for the sake of elucidation.
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3 Truths:
sadly, sometimes, even if we repeat ourselves, it still doesn't help...
keep repeating yourself and you'll end up misquoting yourself.
and sometimes the misquote is better than the verbatim version. but i love this post. the form, the subtle attacks on misery, everything.
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