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We can run side by side fork right together on the bleak
road.
Run fast enough that we never look back at the left behind
us.
With our steps crunching among the barren escapade-
We long for the fruitful pleasures of a stroll.
As glances oppose we turn around atop a freshly cut knoll
To find all along we were in control.
Each day gleans in to the next
Using my hands, adept
To calculate the necessary rest
But the task becomes a pest
When time passes like swatting flies sleeplessly in the
Amazon.
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