puisi tentang kebosanan yang bermakna
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Shopping List at Midnight
The clock halts at twelve,
a silent witness to my pen's
unfinished dance on paper,
thoughts paused, suspended.Each item, a whisper of need,
screams in my mind, yet—
I refrain, hold the fury
like a storm trapped in glass.In this halted moment,
I find meaning—
in the spaces between
what I never bought.