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Writer's pictureReed

No Journey for the Fool

I am a fool,

Empty of thought,

Nonsense words spilling from my mouth.

My creativity is mental masturbation,

Flooding the world with pointless creation,

Damming the river with beautiful butterfly wings.


I am insane,

Expecting different results,

When repeating the same experiment.

My connections are tenuous at best,

Reaching out and immediately retreating,

Building a foundation out of glittering sand.


I am finite,

No real contribution.

I was created with stolen blood and tissue,

My consciousness derived from nothing,

I will enrich nobody's life, but will enrich a patch of soil.


Brimming with emotion threatening to flood,

Full of thoughts with no words to carry them away.

Empty and barren to the eyes of others,

There is no weir to regulate the flow.

The river ends abruptly - no streamlets, no holding pond,

Nobody sitting on the banks to witness my dissipation.



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