Literature
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Give me a sign of if I have chosen
A right way
For these years,
Or if I am not worthy.
Give me some sense if this is the beginning or the end,
When it feels like endless middle.
Adjudge me to be ready,
Or leave me behind,
All I say is let me know – and while I ask this
Off-guard,
In an unequal pattern, overstretched and underused,
I say too much, too soon:
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It makes sense
I identified as a traitor for so long,
And then by self
Self-focus, selfishness
To firmly betray
For the sake of avoiding feared outcomes,
It makes sense. Does it matter if
It is true?
But we seem to live in a world
Where there is nothing in the present, o