From me nothing is born
My hands solely create
what already exists
waiting for a shape or form.
A hero, I am not. Side character
at most. Bit-player in my own work
soulless gateway.
So many others, I’ve been
still I only exist
in those who read me.
I destroy
what is dear to me
sending my words
in leaky ships
onto turbulent waters
losing sight of the truth
like old friends.
Addressing no one
– in particular.
Leen writes 
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