This doesn't make any sense... does it?

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11.13.06.1674

If you knew not what I know,
then you would know not what to show;
for there is nothing left to see here now.

Ye, could we be so cryptic,
in our own mind alone and mystic;
no absolutes exist within certainty.

Dream the self into reality,
where depression collides with eccentricity;
I am not where you have found me any longer.

Nothing.
Made.
Fallen.
Nothing.

That was a good piece of writing (as far as my limited expertise can tell) so it would be great for you to share your scribblings with all :slight_smile: and a misdemeanor not to…

The crypticness of the piece makes one have to think/decipher.