I have lived in freedom
A kind of chaos with no anchor
A constant cosmic rotation
Tumbling erractically in the darkness of curiosities
Navigated by the gravity of my sins
And burning in. the atmosphere of others alike or otherwise
As I disassemble pieces of my exterior
Until all I have left is my core
That crayers whichever celestial body pulls me in
And just like that I am dust.
NEW POETIC ORDER 
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