Published on Sun, 1st Feb 2026 at 23:59
A stillness found my form, flailing silently away; fame, a fickle food, conferred the chosen day. Crumbs of graceless photos furnish the scrolling plays, and then came the hawks to denude the welcome stay! Pieces of my soul adrift, yet quietly, my bones do stay; A stillness found my form, again, but not my growing pray ...
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