Just once, stop looking up and stare down. Get a feel for the height, and for its breadth. Quickly, you'll adapt once you dig in, bracing yourself for the air rushing back.
All sewn up, and thrown from the highest pulpit. No one was awake. No one could hear the splash. Just throwing away sacks of the guilt I no longer desired.
Movement is an art, and I paint every road I walk upon. Meekly, some redact. Not mine. Let these lines converge and refract, willed.
Henceforth, we're all eyes, some with teeth. Search, gorge, I've tripped weaklings for show.
Soft eyes above: once in a while it seems they're calling down below.
Saved and glowing within your senses, bracing yourself for the air rushing back. Claim now what you'll kick down. Movement is an art, and I paint every road I walk upon. Meekly, some redact. Not mine. Let these lines converge and refract, willed.
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