I know.

I know,

When I am writing,

What I feel.

Or is it simply to heal

A wound, an emptiness.

I know when I am writing,

for love or for lust.

I know and I must,

When I am writing.

There are eyes,

pointing everywhere.

And I am all yet none

I know I am the one

who deals in

games of persuasion.

But I am all,

that was and shall be,

because I know

when I am writing.,

the truth of the fact.

Or revealing more lies,

It all comes around

with the process of destruction

we shall reap on ourselves

and because of it.

I know I am writing,

and it all is merely a giant wheel,

and I am a tiny cog

stuck in this system of deals.

 

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