I don't need to win it, there is no joy in it,
Must accept progression, lose inept depression.
Is this you in front of me, white line space no subtlety,
Strike no time, less thinking of me and mine and theory of.
'Cos I don't see it as my soul, I'd call it numerical.
Taking easy further, less to please a learner
Of appreciating, second to creation.
12 years ago
13 years ago
13 years ago
14 years ago