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when will I realize
that my world has take color?
My life seems to be a pity party,
pittling along with the gray flowers made of heavy clay.
They droop when the rain falls
and they stay deformed when the sun rises.
The life I'm living stopped being a race
when I stopped running.
I'm on the sidelines and
it's because I broke my own legs.

My knees need grease but the can is to far away
for my lazy limbs to find.
Cracking under my own weight and
when will I realize
that my world has taken color?
maybe I'll do a poem a day or something... that would be a good exercise to do~

— The End —