its starting to get lonely and dark. I can't see much further. Where do you go from here.
How can you sit there watching, talking, to someone you think is me?
You think I'll fly, run, jump, when I'm just a rock embedded in a clump of weeds.
Yet I'm slowly being ground into sand. by the consistent pelting of questions. thoughts. ideas.
I just need to sit here for a while. I don't want to roll, I'll gather moss and disappear.
the others are everywhere. fluttering around. and my distance grows further and further with every flap.
its getting lonely, but its where i'd rather be.
wear down till there's nothing left. and be blown away away by the wind.
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