Who are we
Who are we-
with our names etched on paper napkins
thrown outside trash cans with an identity,
with the necrosis of our hurt written on eclipses
hiding behind curtains in memory stained rooms,
with fragments of our words trailing inside pitfalls
lurking inside the crusades of a symbolic century,
with strangers living inside our own bodies
coming home to a house filled with corpses of ink
who are we- this, that or the sum total of all lost and broken things?
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