Of said

Jaia Papitz's picture


Why should one wait, the hope or dream

the patience has been given as obedience, not virtue
one will receive what one despises, at their will
missing the cue, will wait in line, forever
until the doomsday reveals itself, rigged as a roll of dice
it's either one, the other or the hoped
confined in its entrapment, from the one to six and in between
aspire to the seven or infinite, I tumble the whisper while I roll
the squares hit the wall, revealing what I knew
it's seven, but of two
the dream or hope, the wait of infinite

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