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After a while
I came to see
what it means
to breathe
to see the colours in a dream
or hear the voices in the subtle breeze
to know without knowing
pen stories of people
I’ll never meet.
What is it about them
their triumphs and tribulations
I wonder why, even come to me.
At this moment
I’ve come to see
I do not write for you,
nor me
but I scribble
tales of people
whether they exists?
I do not know.
I write
that is me.