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Soberly burning my book of poetry I’ll never forget the smell of burning ink
Soberly burning my book of poetry I’ll never forget the smell of burning ink
The scent of erasing failures that were already hidden from the world
Why care so much about ever word and the order they go in? And never let them see other’s eyes?
I’m vain and safe in my own world.
If other people read this I’d be in deep shit.