《Silent Poetry》Wishes
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I wish to treasure a few things
to myself forever.
Not treasure, but to hold on and live like that.
A few things fail at us and fade into the mountain cries.
Like you did.
While another couple of things glitter
before dying midway,
like the old version of myself did.
A clear-headed calculation of a dead man's living,
and how his poetry flies away like the last bluebird.
There's a thin line between you and impossibility.
And a blood stain between me and my wishes.
Not all burns can heal like that,
not when your wishes are bigger than your brain.
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