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If love is a game to you,

I choose not to play.
Not a dystopian world we are living in.
That's just our imagination and way of thinking.
If the world were dystopian,
We would have been dreaming of utopia to live in.
Maybe it's not the world that's broken, but our view of it.
Rain falls when
The clouds get heavy. I
Walk with my umbrella, which the wind turned
Inside out. Droplets fall around
My head, and I
Remember when I was a child and got
To play in the puddles. Then I became sick
And cuddled in blankets. Mother puts a hand to
My forehead and smiles at my
Sneeze. I drink hot soup, which warms my stomach.
Now I wetly plod along, and
My soul smiles as I
Recall the rubber ball that I threw
So high it seemed to touch the rainbow that arced down.
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