openeye

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openeye

my choice 2 raise my perspectives has let me to a corner
here i am submitted to the range of defense seeing myself
in a glass of half water not being poured but smelted to
the senses of errosion is this my gift to set and be waited out
clashing with the senses of others not partaking in the gifts of
society left not at chance but now to see.

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Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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openeye’s Poems (2)

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openeye 0
The Day 0