I interpret this topic to mean that I should be talking about my philosophy or something. Life sucks, except when it's great. I'm going to break from the traditional format and do what I do kind of alright.
My Eyes
Days pass in blindness. Caressed by the dark
Until I open.
Pounding, my head forgets
As I fade in to childhood.
I am vexed.
I look upward with placid orbs
Slowly becoming a grounded air balloon
Torn and tattered.
I am deflated.
Inspecting forward I see pores,
Flesh, scars, days on the playground,
Perhaps I eventually see a face.
I am defined.
Downward I fall, becoming an ant
And seeing hundreds of the single blade,
Thousands of building blocks.
I am closed.
Thanks for reading.
Tomorrow's Topic: Favorite City
Rich
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