I will not miss you or your fucking soup.
One day when all is gone and all has returned
I will find a way
and it will be shown to me
and the ducks will be warm in the winter.
There are a lot of things in oneself to hate,
it is hard to know where to begin.
There are a lot of memories to desire gone
soups and lies and things we don’t speak of.
I await the judgement
and something else.