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Riding in glides, super-sailing in leaps- going on and on about the otherside, trailing to collide, and oppressing in the peaks of my plight, in the loneliest day which is just as night. I now look to the sky! Interesting in my sights, interesting to deny of life, and the rotating bike, with some ivory fight, I now look to the sky! As your stand-up comedian, as your rhyme of the eye! A rye of the ripening fry- an intrinsic like a cry! I now look to the sky! Melancholic, systematic, the intimation of procreating during a sustainment- intonation, allocation, the moody croons, and the wisdom drooping in swoons. The ink-ur- slowly to rise but lingers, Trojan Horse! 'Enemy's Tinkerer!' And yes also with a sorry clown in a finger, does it right but still does it meager, because he is a teacher- and you reach her. Every time the lurid outcasts are seen in the wooden brinks, it's connection is formed through a grave mistake! The next day is what you take away, no matter how hard or faked we were in our try- I sped into the curb but it took me dry. I worked and worked but nobody saw my eyes, I was always in a youthful wonder of how we die, I couldn't peace out or even par-take, I wanted the real thing just like my base.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

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