Poems · writing

Habitual Creature

delightedpessimist

What if in the end

They cut us down,

And all that’s found is the rings.

The circles presenting our being

Our our repetition.

The only thing left of our potential

Rotting there in the ground.

Published by delightedpessimist

I am the delighted pessimist. Purveyor of sadness, happiness, and everything in between. Also cheesy statuses because I never know what else to put here.

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