You speak of the lonesome
we call upon empty minds
perhaps a subconscious awareness
of greatness beyond
of cosmos unseen,
Unheard of
worlds of realities

What is the death
but the norm
our norm
our inevitable
death is like
is like the common cold
is a portal.

lonely I’ll be,
Lost I will gladly become,
amongst stars
all victims of the common cold.

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