What Am I?
written by: Martina Rimbaldo
@MartinaRimbaldo
What am I?
Nothing … it is subdued down to the circular trail of dried ink that remains unused in the old fountain pen … laid in the concealment of the massive, dusty antique table drawer located in the forgotten museum …Only spiders call it home, performing stunts, hanging from their transparent thin nets.
I imagine … to become something better …
I dream … that at least one tiny trail for the future generations from me, on this common planet remains.
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