Black noise

The fight is not the way

Not mine

To prove or win

A satisfaction vane.

You poke me and trick me

When i despise you

And your darkness.

Pick up your slippers,

It’s off.

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Office distribution

The static office
Leaves little room to the spacious personalities
of its inhabitants.
Little ants with black backs
Collect and reposition
Inert Objects within a superior map.
Protected by their hard exterior,
Their inner stay sky might remain untold
But always at reach.

Authentic self

It is running through the crowd
Looking for a too friendly face,
The blame for not adapting.
Too true to yourself,
You refused the rules and expectations
of your younger peers,
Just to be well-defined and authentic.
Time has passed
And your originality is no novelty
To the people that around you
Puff their day away.