wound

You can’t name it.
You think you know the name of it but you don’t.

And you dont want it to be that, anyway, it can’t be that.
It shouldn’t be that.
Could it be that?

You don’t know yourself. You know language for yourself but you don’t know yourself.

Find the words or don’t. Cry it away or don’t.

Maybe.
I don’t know what it was like before or what it will be like tomorrow.

Find the words.

Find the language.

Make it all therapy.

Evade it then discover anything.

Go back and wonder how it even matters, why it all means yourself, be yourself, free yourself, yourself yourself, create yourself. What does it mean? Why does it mean anything? Don’t chain yourself to yourself. It’s when you’ll hurt.

Why we even bother to try to write this poem.

Ask yourself to what good is it to know yourself & who gave you that idea. It’s why you’ll hurt. Why you’ll love.
All you’ll ever know is poetry.

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