Ink Blotches

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A festival for summer to gather the thinkers

Collecting names and creating futures one by one

Marching them in like cattle to be herded and sorted

Ironically matching identity of self into what self stands against

Creating an image, creating a challenge, creating a burden?

As a child I wander; not searching, nor pretending

Was this to witness a gift or a plot of destruction?

Another thought added to the list of doubt and pessimistic questions;

But I think everyone has some of those

Whether locked up in the moldy storage trunk, long forgotten in the attic

Or, burning in eyes until question mark ink blotches stain face black

I am grateful for these opportunities of learning. ❤

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