And this rhythm tends to taking us – for the adolescent young ride of our bewildering lives

This need not ever turn out to be knife-edge
When we wedge an abnormal degree of painstaking monstrosity
Between the eagle who swoops atop ten million feet
And begs to feel the quickened frenzy and snidely decipher between,
the lessened parts of all of paralysed We

He is needle-thin with nothing but deep-rooted mistrust
Settled to swarm and breathtakingly form – Searching like rapid wildfire, to wedge a cold-boulder right amidst us all

Forlorn little fecksome creature, he is indeed – His exterior feather-faced design feeds upon our fear-felt many an altogether recklessly caressed imaginatively overactive thing, manically interior

When it holds no place in our everything
But for when we just must promise ourselves to fight on regardless
Of that… preaching to no-one else but our merry ‘n’ drunkenly forlorn people

Who meet us immediately by the middle
And strengthen and thicken our crossbow dagger/swagger, either way forth they shall gladly take to having had us

Parcel-wrapped in the beginning, but our very own hometruth’s are thinning to the bleeding core
Either way forth, seems they will listen to what our mishandled minds have been force-feeding themselves to say

Please, keep my eyes to learn, my hands to serve, and burn the best of the rest of me

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