There’s nothing light about you.

No remedial space for grace

No sway, no play.

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Your face—

It’s laced with terrible lines of certainty.

Lines excavating deep

The jagged, the crooked

Tamed to take part in conforming to your body and the background.

---

With the gust you can muster

You blow

Spinning all the fingers pointing at you away

But you fall towards every direction they point to anyway.

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Your dreams are laughing at you

'Cause they’ll never come true.

Wake up.