Passing thoughts

Today, I read something I wrote a while ago.

“The dead look so at peace, so still; yet so stiff, and so pale.

The living look so at war, so restless; yet so flexible, and so colourful.”

I still do not understand why I wrote this, but it is time to publish it, and refer to it in the future.

I am thankful for passing thoughts, caged on a page.

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