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Boredom
July 9, 2023
I like the trees in the clocks which grow when they stop,
the flowers of time, how they bloom,
and, the maps that draw themselves
on the walls.
Music notes that float in silence
through an open window, they bring
with them the stories that spread
out on the ceiling.
And I, it is my job, to listen to them all,
I take their illustrated afternoons,
put them out on paper, it is,
their only chance to live.
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