Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
The Self
ever since the day we are born
a baby's cry.
perception of possessions - let your air in through my window
and also, your toys belong to me.
from the confines of our neurotic fortress
we place our bets on the benefits of befriending others.
just part of the collective unconsciousness
thinking only about rest and mother's milk.
and until the day we die
a baby's cry.
poem
by
Chris Jelens
solid border
dashed border
dotted border
double border
groove border
ridge border
inset border
outset border
no border
blue
green
red
purple
cyan
gold
silver
black