HUMAN CONDITION:

The Box Complex.

Us in a poem.

We share the same blue ball,
but have our own little box.
Always in hiding,
and shackled in our locks.

And when the night comes,
we shut the blinds and go to sleep,
like a neverending cycle —a video on repeat.

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I write about things every week(ish).

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Aaryan Harshith

Aaryan Harshith

I write about things every week(ish).

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