Beautiful books become flat and itching when it comes to include them in an essay;
I wish i was free
I wish it so much it makes me want to start again -
everything.
I've got a toe in my hand and like she did, as I read once,
I mentally jump from the window and feel my eyes getting cold until
I jump again, feel the ground be closer and closer until
I jump again, and feel my legs useless until
I stop and repeat, again.
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