Pastless but Not Pure
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Never truly in the moment,
But instead grasping the essence of
Concepts or elements scattered within it.
Creating odd memories stitched together—
Like an abomination, a being without a past:
Disjointed pictures and thoughts and emotions,
This core I keep trying to grasp but that keeps me guessing
No memories.
This story is part of a collection of poems, short stories and introspective diary entries, called “Grimoire of a Weirdo”.