a kid making a snow-Angel in North Texas, it will never be the real thing
effort to validate, move on from a place visit the fable
you take the hand and feel their soul corrode, plod on for some reason
it is a reason unknown to man but only to beast, and even they are unsure
a black nugget in a grimy chest somewhere over the horizon
growing further and further with each step you take on the treadmill of effort
if only you would let go!
2 comments:
i couldn't tell if i wanted to add "let mysticism dispel" as the final line or not
"plod on for some reason," yessssssss!
maybe second to last?
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