The third eye in first person
writes about solitude
that churns the loneliest.
It pours out human suffering
far away from the epicenter.
Sitting between bounds of comfort
it coldly expounds on uncertainty.
And it's the only one that remembers
the flash mob of moths
and an occasional attack
of the garden lizard.
writes about solitude
that churns the loneliest.
It pours out human suffering
far away from the epicenter.
Sitting between bounds of comfort
it coldly expounds on uncertainty.
And it's the only one that remembers
the flash mob of moths
and an occasional attack
of the garden lizard.
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