33 lines
752 B
Text
33 lines
752 B
Text
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Alte
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2024-04-23
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***
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So long, my old computer.
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We hardly knew each other,
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and those that we shared were some of the worst of my days.
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While you were in my grasp
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I somehow managed to lose track
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of my sense of self,
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sell
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it to a stranger
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who first felt my chaotic blood, Judas, prime betrayer.
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Goodbye, you old piece of shit,
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even though you were the newest
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apart from my desktop that I bought in hopes of work.
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Funny how the decade-old
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laptops bitter, short, and slow
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have lasted longer than you did despite bearing far more hurt.
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I'll have to spend a few days just to bleed
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from the ego pain
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of knowing a way
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to repair is out of reach.
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Rest in piss
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in the salvage bin
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or the back of my closet, never used again.
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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