The day I learned to dream

The day I learned to dream

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sun, Sep 12, 2021
The creation string connecting me to my dreams is so thin I could see trough it better than through a window. But windows show the world outside unlike the unexpected material connecting you...to you. I may not know how it comes to creation nor what meaning has what it shows. But thanks to its existence I know the feeling of flying through emptily full world. I have seen purple trees and felt like it belongs. Because it does. It all belongs to the world where there's just me, myself and I. My attempt on poetry that takes creation in my dreams, every day life or comes out of nowhere. Probably won't make sense but does it really have to? (nope it does not)
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I've tried. but i've always failed to contain these thousand words in a few sentences, maybe im bad at expressing macro feelings in the few words that I'm limited to. you might think you know me enough because it's been a long time since i first waved at you and the love for the same artist started our very first conversation, but even i haven't discovered the colors of my existence yet, so why do you claim that you have? you think you've already uncovered the secrets and seen the scars and the marks and reached the origin of every preserved artifact in the treasures that i've kept hidden over the years but there's so much more that you would never even hear of. i've chosen to show you everything as a part of a happy story but will you ever know this? which words were rewritten and omitted out and which words are the part of the organic script which fits perfectly into the timeline. have you figured out yet who's the real director of my story? there's so much more to me than you think there is. poetry and prose and everything in between. 26.10.2021 - 01.06.2022

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