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Rated: E · Prose · Philosophy · #2266653
Beautiful destruction for beauty
I give all to life,
and Life's awls and knives
Bite my bones to scrimshaw.
What was once my form and motion
now lies idle medium
For tedious patterns.
All traces of me have vanished
into the pile of chips and shards
So deftly removed from this artwork
destined for other craft.
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