Questions about life I do not have the answers to:

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Photography: mxqqy (self)

Why can we only slip into disillusioned delusions in darkness
but morning madness must to be mourned by the minute?

What do we leave behind once we tire of this place, all those
wasted hours and wasted days, wasting body in wasting space?

Was nirvana always a bitter breath away, or can nonexistence
only be sought for in the sacrilegious silence of forgetful lips?

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