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Alphabet soup
It's past midnight,
I really should sleep
But I keep writing.
Why?
Words give me a face
of letters
of commas,
of periods.
I live without existing. I melt into the alphabet.
Isn't it wonderful?
I am nothing but an alphabet soup.
The ones I used to eat when I was younger.
What am I saying?
I am going to sleep.
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In case you'd want to know, I didn't really go to sleep. I kept writing.