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Poems

Not Yet

There is objectivity.

I don’t deserve

forgiveness for my…

But I ask anyway.

The end is near.

 

There is an ambiguous

pain in my

torso, throughout,

changing fluidly.

And I’ve changed,

perhaps not as fluidly,

but perspective is

fluid.

 

If this is

the end,

so be it.

 

This is no end.