this lack i water regularly
and shower with light
that i gathered in diadems
this lack that i speak to
to coax it and comfort
it will give me nothing in return
it will not fill me
with a core of xylum and phloem
and with frozen ripples
capture the time that slips
it will not give me roots,
nor a way to reach the sky
it will sit and grow only in hunger
and hollow me with its numbing weight
it will, it does.
but i, quite contrary
to the sense of the world
know only how to give in
but not give up.
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