open to consume nothing but air in your longing for
thoughts cocoon and confine you,
feeling as content as you are empty
you mean everything,
but keep your mouth silent, skeptical
why scream when you can hold still for an eternity?
suspended, dangling, shaking only with the wind,
your company is shared with a few broken leaves
confident once the idea is conceived:
the killer is the one who weaves.
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