Something stayed 02/16

It doesn’t matter how far away I get from it. It stays the same. A row of a white lights. 

Maybe you don’t exist. 

Maybe I don’t exist. 

I’d kind like to climb over the railing and swim in the river, just to see. 

There’s dead fish in there, don’t. 

It doesn’t go away. 

Growth, I suppose, is knowing that it doesn’t have to go away and being able to say thank you. 

I still don’t know what it all means, 

But it stays precious. 

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