Amorphous

I am amorphous.

 Too complex to grasp.

You can’t have me.

You can’t know me.

If you see me, then you will think you know me.

You will begin to change me, characterize me, objectify me, label me.

You will break me.

To know me is to destroy me.

Hide.

Run.

Evade expectations.

Isn’t that where freedom lies, in the grey?

No expectations.

No Black.

No White.

No needs.

No desire for things you cannot have: Just chaos to get lost in.

Subterranean freedom please.

I demand it.

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