wind-up-me

I’m no fairy, not made of star dust.

I’m not enchanted, no divine trust.

That’s not me.

No endless sea.

No mysterious key.

I don’t feel sense, nor grace

I’m made of emptiness ‘n space.

Cold to the core, minute by minute,

till my shivering notions dilute.

Stop. All come to a halt –

Exhale. Nothing’s in a vault.

Scratching pen on a paper…

Bleeding ink, who’s my shaper?

Wind up my heart,

once again – lets start.

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