The hall before me
is infected with tears.
It’s like a match with correlation
and the mask you bear all these years.
I’d climb the surface to redemption
but never would my heart
feel it’s sincere.
I’d walk thin wires for years for you
but you wouldn’t take a step off the cliff.
I’d mutter my own crazed interpretations,
while you fend the demons in your glass case of a soul.
We’re both fragile and incapable of dealing,
but I imagine that we’ll wander over the right stream.
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