Photo by Christian Holzinger on Unsplash
Calls dropped before the ring, excuses sing.
Over-exert with no perks, what
am I worth? Should it hurt yet?
Lighthouse letters returned
to no sender. 'Miss
yous' hit like waves.
Erodes, it
can't be
seen.
About the Creator
Willem Indigo
I spend substantial efforts diving into the unexplainable, the strange, and the bewilderingly blasphamous from a wry me, but it's a cold chaotic universe behind these eyes and at times, far beyond. I am Willem Indigo: where you wanna go?

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