Text is Like a Box of Chocolates

Hidden in the text

Are clues

All left on show

Waiting for the one who knows

The patterns that are woven;

So they can forge the meanings,

Raise pins to the shear line

And find the lock is primed.

Keys can turn a lock in all directions,

Bring clearness or confusion,

With space, delete or page down;

What is text, anyway?

 

By Shay Ryan

 

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