Float away, the rain-sea that is also the
sky.
Untethered
to anything.
Shuffled by wind.
Still, it sinks.
Lower
and lower with the pull of the million eyes that look up and hope.
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Rough and tough day. Had a rather heated discussion with a friend about something. Am contemplating whether I should write about it or not....
1 comment:
Alternate endings, depending on the mood:
...still it stinks
or
...still it sings
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