By Sunny Rey
I too still wonder
about the rooms of my soul
Where do the doors lead
and how about those deserted roads too?
What are my private intentions?
What is it that fills spaces between cells?
Fragments of generosity
stones made of viciousness?
Like the candles burning into the night
it is only a failed attempt at comfort
just as the false repetition of my heartbeat
has me defining that as the only proof I am
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