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sensitive

provoke is the word we must not lust after

introduction will swell
itself under

there is an infinite sin in fury
memory

gradual depression
fiddling out the angles
in anxiety
volume gliding in

calm

being in center
is the only way out
the compass will eventually
violate

its own standards
the winds

are fractured
through the inspiration of chaos
with an anchor
that can only dream about
the agility

to float

Editing stage: 

Comments

excellent poem!
Tim

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