Poetry
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This is a blob of ink

This is you

This is you

My pen spat a blob of ink
Like an asteroid on the planet of my page
Chaos ensued
It bounced and spawned other blobs
Small and large
And I waited for it to dry, saw the skylight reflected in each
Tried to give them meaning:
This is you, I pointed an arrow to the smallest;
That is chaos, I pointed to a large one
Landed between serious lines of my thoughts,
Read into it nothing but a blob of ink
Waiting to be absorbed into another constellation.

the end

the end

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