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Hubert Ignatowicz

Mind Warts

No creation of the past unwanted fears
All salvations of the unpredicted deaths
It’s just swifting through and softly weeps
Like the endless streams of joy that lightly drips

No direction to the void or emptiness
Gently tearing me apart tickling my thoughts
No illusion of the craziness of the light
Isolation from the suffering of mind warts

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