Dashing away on an
old typewriter,
peeling at the walls
of reality,
you ask sir, Do
Androids Dream of
Electric Sheep?
But of what do
You dream?
Writing and
writing your life
away,
spending your time
in the magazines.
The cracks of
what’s real and
what’s fiction
begin to blur,
until,
one day, too soon,
you’re gone,
leaving behind
your legacy of
books and pages.
Rest easy, oh
writer, your work,
lives on.
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