The Lengf,
And breadf,
And hight
Of my mind
Is braking down
Into some sort of
Tapestry
Of pretty patterns
Wich I cant read;
Cant understand.
I tri to cry,
But feelings are nummed.
Where has my mind gon?
The lengf,
And breadf,
And hight
Of my mind,
Is becuming a singularity.
Everyfing I wunce new,
Wich was wunce blue,
Is now red,
And ritten
In a language I cant understand.
Im trapped
In a prison
Of my own constructshun.
Its not my falt.
Everyfing is ugly,
And becuming unreadable.
But the skys still so beautyful.
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