no idea why the mud
surrounds
these feet
kept
standing though
still
moving in the mind
this
writing becomes
a waste of
time
success is
the only option
no matter
how long still standing
in that mud
feet will eventually
break free
giving some movement to words
written
yesterday now or twelve years ago
smoke out
the nose like a dragon
fire
breathed ends on the page
without
reason or rhymes at times
no sense at
all
found only
moments after
when
listening
to the
thoughts roar
take shape
before eyes...
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