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Feb 2020
With each click;
Each turn of the wheel,
This chamber elevates,
Moving betwixt
The omnipotent clouds
Without a single groan;
A single fearful moan,
In the face of these forms.

Sitting inside this elevator,
I wonder
When will the line break?
When will I fall into death’s open arms,
And view his cold visage on wake?
It’s about an elevator.
Ayn
Written by
Ayn  20/M/Wherever I May Roam
(20/M/Wherever I May Roam)   
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