The Song of the Moon
Life seems to prepare the well-trodden road for me
I as a good mental patient
I throw boulders upon it so large
To create obstacles worthy of medals for me,
If I could overcome them.
I live with grace
While I crave the difficulty within every muscle fiber
I fear the already lived, the prepared
I want works out of my hands
Earning my living by my bread.
Hearing from below the earth
The moon singing reading the notes on the stars.
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