We’re thoughts circling the insides of a beehive
Colliding, connecting, introspecting
We think to achieve, to thrive and believe
All has been said, I think, as I lay down my pen
No thought is unique, it’s all on repeat
My words are shadows of scribbled notes,
of poems, novels, of scripts from before
But, what else can I do than to play some more?
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Josie Mattsson 