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Binoculars out, I’m scanning surroundings off and online,

Nothing to do with me, this season is about internal cleaning, foundations and meanings and who I think I am.


Dying wants. Clear needs. Separation. Purity.


We don’t need flyers, don’t need likes or follows, chasing wet paper, words insignificant, emotional points hollow.

I thought I needed applause. Instead, found blessed with a cause.

I thought I needed approval. Public opinion a defeated leaf in changing winds.

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