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Riding The Wind

Too tired

to write

Too hungover

to fight

This life

Hangs by a small thread

And at the end of it

Fly’s me

The kite

The life


Flowing

with the wind

And when

that breeze ends

Or the thread snaps

So do I

But while alive

I’d like to see

how high

I can fly.


-C.H.


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