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Creative Corner For sharing of poetry, artwork, verse and other creative things. |
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Junior Member
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I am alone on my bed: the world
is somewhere outside, but I’m not part of it – don’t want to be part of it in any sense. That’s my condition, without contrition – that’s my life. But then I think: the branch cannot be alive unless attached to the tree. I dread that world and every bit of it, yet maybe some are good and kind: that really would improve my mind. I lie on my bed, but am not alone, the world is here and I am part of it in every sense. It has to be: it is our human condition. |
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