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Nuance & Null

When I was young Oh what conceit Foisted upon me The Conceit of Always being sure Now for sure That sharp coloration Faded and creaky With flawed recall Has morphed into grey With new insight I am much more Uncertain Of any and all Save my own exit Why be sad? I smile within Because what will be Resides beyond me To alter otherwise!

Nuance & Null  

A short Essay in Vertical Prose.

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