I think
that
misperceptions
of the world
matter.
Count the number
of poems
wrapped around
questions
posing as
stanzas
that never
end in
answers.
You may
just notice
the same thing
that I have.
People
willingly
believe
in people
who
believe.
Like
that’s kinda a
thing in the
poetry
world.
It’s its
bread and
butter.
And really,
it
does
not
matter
if the piece comes
from a lived
place
or an
observed
space
or imagined
case,
it will
always be
someone’s
deja vu
or
secret
or
suffering
or
journey.
this is
good.
this
is
gold.
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