I once flew too close to the sun.
On broken wings. Rubber factory burning smell.
Exposed as we run, we became hopeless
overdosing on rum and turning sail
into the ocean. Deeper. Colder. Soaking our lungs
in air thick with the dew. Smog. Corrosive and drunk.
We learned to fail.
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I'm just swinging swords strictly based on keyboards, unbalanced like elephants and ants on seesaws.
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