Read Time:33 Second
Traversing the space of the seer
Truncated by gasps of air
So tiny it bruised my hair
Perched on the wet clouds
Bonded lips stuck out in surrender
I wish to fly off this mirage
I wish to diffuse this burning rage
Yet my wings are clipped for good
Safe from the food for my rage
I reach for succour in space
For that between the clouds
The world is rounded and founded
Only on the weak and dumbfounded
Lost in thought for want of hope
Living in the desert unable to cope
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