and I wake up
my feet are killing me
and my head is filled with...
let's go
time to leave
seventy-six cents in my pocket
why do you have to be like that?
your horns at a curvature
are hard to handle
at times
i'm the wind then
i'm the ocean now
calmly sauntering on
your fire burns me
and i fuel it further
until it's extinguished
by my self sufficiency
saunter
saunter
saunter
forward.
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