completing letters, being right, being wrong

overanalize letters, floating text, everything in

context, everyone out of it, no zone

to think, because time is inexcusable, and

all is wrong with me even the little

things, even the big things, every

thing seemed so valuable, but this

is a tip without end, without

exit, we will continue travelling

until we find home, until we find us

                                until we find us


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