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I am who I am. I write poetry and paint really badly. Please be patient.

Concepts come

Souls are born then expire

Within a blink

Mortality perceptible


What reason?

There seems to be no answer

To this paradox.

It looks pointless,

Leaving helplessness behind

In its perpetual wake.

Memories of past

Erased by decay.

Labouring tirelessly

To no true end,

The only reply to time

Is inevitable death!

© 2019 Wendy Engela

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