a_list_of_all_i've_lost raze the paper burns before it can hold a thing, and in the ash it leaves behind, an unheard prayer. not to any god. no great ambition in its desperation. just a quick exhale with no good place to go, so it doubles back on itself, grits its teeth or the nearest thing to them, and steels itself for more of the same and less of what matters most, until there's nothing more to miss and no one left to be missed by. but so much still to fight for. and so much love in that small flame. 210827 what's it to you? who go blather from