Vials Silver
Vials Silver
What do you think of my poem?
I am chained to the silver cuffs
Of supposed reason and common sense
But I have concluded that it can't exist
I see no reason not to stab the bitch
That ruined my life and melted happiness into a tiny vial
In which was drunk down through his neck?
I see no colors as I look into a mirror, but tiny lights of subjectivity
Where objectives don't exist.
You, my dear, are nothing but a walking ball of matter bits
You're unimportant in every aspect.
that. is deep. i applaud you.
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