there's no fun in this spot under the sun
conversations put on hold
summertime comes and shoulders, weights that feel like boulders
a zipline around the world and my harness begins to tear
where i'll crash land, i can't say, but i hope it's fair
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Poésieredefinition; sculpting, acceptance. figuring out which way to go. questioning mortality. new sense of direction. restarting internal insurrections. letting go and standing tall. "in a cave where light cannot be a winding maze of multiple ways to es...
