Three strings

Drowning slowly in my own waist

I went to look for God

But he could not be found

So I went back to the city again

Trying to play the fiddle with only

Three strings

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About

I am who I was when I wrote this text but I do not know if I exist now. I am from Scandinavia where the arctic starts

Tagged with: , , , , ,
Posted in Ambivalence, patterns, Poem, Poetry

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