a suden urge to break everything i own. vision cut short. hands cut free.
you speak of walls but i speak of cycles, and they always spin.
and from where i'm standing no walls have been constructed, only cycles.
i saw what was left of you. forced back..
hands outstretched in the cold night air. offering all my broken belongings.
on by one i raise them up. to share them all with you.
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