Some feel the presence of a creature greater than us
and have all the answers floating on the sky,
waiting to be caught
While I,
sitting on the edge of the dock
feel no air through
my suffocating lungs
It’s a concert of melancholy
where girls braiding each other’s hair
dim their private suns
Which I once had thousands of
Now,
I have to learn to breathe
so that I could nod towards
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