been writing just like what it sounds like... incompletes, pieces of poems, nothing worth noting in fact.
lines like "how is it the weatherman smiles on a day like this one?" and "history is being written by the channel 7 news and 9" "when they smile and say 'it sort of makes you want to cry' / when they giggle like children and say 'your ..." end of that one not done yet, see, incoplete pieces.
but felt i should share those pieces anyway.
i'm struggling, again, with a nation-wide crisis, but this time there's no enemy so we blame ourselves and each other. civilization vs nature, nature comes out on top every time, no matter how stubborn civilization can be. our nature comes back to us and we open ourselves to those who need us. and i'm stuggling to juxtapose myself against the reality of my country; wondering, does it define me in any way?
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