poem 11
prose poetry? idk?
for this moment, there is no attachment to be given, no name able to be seen without the true heart. no one left in this land possesses such an item that would let them be free from whatever may have control. the pure and true of heart, are free from the control of their sight, though their bodies may be locked away in asylums. they may be seen as 'crazy' by the ones who liked to be called 'normal', but these powers given, allow them to see a version of 'light'.
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