A jolt of lightning Travels through the spine Signaling an explosion To the consciousness. Eyes watering, His gaze searches mine, Begrudgingly regaining his footing Gripping the trainer's triangle That is also unsteady. He leans on it completely Bent, chin nearly touching Kicking wildly he begins Straight, not angles that catch friction. He passes by where I watch Scrunched face, eyes forward Determined not to show any sign of struggle. To have chosen the instability of eight wheels Instead of solid ground, For what? His look so familiar, Like my brothers... No, it was mine And then he gave me the answer, As he threw his last line of defense aside And he used the flow of his arms to balance, His legs moving with the grace of a dancer The self created breeze smoothing his hair And the chorus from "Something just like this", Guiding him.
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