Wandering through history

A train going backwards, a swing raped by the air

Carrying false hope, rough tracks call for adventure

How can you know? You just do

How can you tell? It’s a mirror set to clear itself

A sequence of origami flying over your head

Making you believe paper was the real thing instead

One bald patch, does not indicate success

Neither does a tired spirit, or the desire to be somebody else

You’re a copy of a copy of a copy

Metamorphosing into the tertiary

Forgetting the primary, the prime, sublime.

I don’t hold my quill in hopes of,

sticking it back to the arse it detached from!

Neither do I wish to conquer it

For shedding its skin

Over my skin

Like a tint of paint in water

Certain thoughts outspread, and dissolve into what needs to melt

Never would I have known, that a city in ruins

Compared to a jigsaw, was far less confusing

A wise man once read the wonders of the world

By admitting that he wasn’t meant to be

Just another person wandering through history

Secrets don’t just unfold onto anyone…

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Published by

S.K.

This right here, keeps me sane. You will find here, sincere thoughts mixed up with a subconscious trying to fuck it all up. I hope you understand.

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