Hands: A Poem

You have to read the things that don’t intrigue. Shake a leg and run away from the ones who offend. It doesn’t mean a thing. It’s all trivial anyway. Given the circumstances, I don’t have time to occupy my mind with things that hurt my feelings. I want to debunk the idea that I have to let things go because I’m not carrying a heavy load. No, I don’t have anything to hold. It is not a part of me. It is not attached to me. It is not tangible. It is not conceptual. It does not exist.

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