Footsteps, up and down,
it’s monotonous clunky pop,
foreign mouths,
flapping all around,
without a sound,
like little birds,
they chirp their songs,
seeming happy, but
is it real,
or do they feel?
Like the places in my mind,
that I don’t choose to be,
and just between you and I,
I’d rather not go,
rather not go.
I’ve fallen down,
making subtle sounds,
no fun or games,
in random names,
with no info,
there’s nothing deep,
seems life is bleak,
without a beak,
so you try,
to warp my mind…
But the places in my mind,
you can’t choose for me,
so just between you and I,
I will not go,
I will not go.
Now I can fly
into the sky,
or stay in form,
and be cast in a dye,
so will I die,
outside the norm?
or will I concede
and weather the storm?
is it real,
to warp your mind…?
if you don’t choose to be,
cause just between you and I,
I’d rather not go,
I’d rather not go…
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