I know thy dilemma,
Mona Lisa.
'ts upto you
to be or not to be
what I can only paint.
Now, or never
you tell me,
Forever is not an option.
But chose, if you
To be,
The golden dust, and the black rust
Will wrap you forever.
I made a promise to my self
I'm breaking it, with this poem
One line, at a time
That's the geometry of this poem.
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