COMMENT SECTION!!! (please tell me I'm not talking to myself like a psychopath tysm)
Poetry ...
Summer MorningSwim,
through the wheat fields
and the silent sky
that blend in a
Summer morning.
Swim,
in the wind,
steeped in pollen and methane,
playing acrobat
on high voltage cables.
Swim,
your eyes see Time
dancing with the Sun
an eternal roundabout
without purpose.
Swim,
sink,
drown
in that Summer Morning:
no need for a "why".
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