Lines.
- Sam John
- Mar 4
- 1 min read
I never knew where the lines were.
Even when I learned where they were, I stepped outside of them
Every single time.
Just to say that I could.
To question the line makers and the lives they lived.
Who's to say where the line is.
And why the hell would I conform.
To fit the lines of rogue nations and debilitating insecurities.
Yours faithfully,
Maker.
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