Digital drawing · poetry

Weavers tail.

At the sound of the voice of the lessons

which I am in cycle of.

I cannot win,

I cannot understand,

until my head constructs a radio to the mind.

All of my arteries within my lungs,

wont stop stressing its walled breathing room.

©OAM

®Artsydhude 97-18

™XENOphagz,XenoGrapx

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