Hold my hands when I swing too high,
Your careless laugh and stupid jokes house me when my feet touch the ground.
You have been breaking me down systematically to abandoned carelessness
In coloured heaps of thoughts and lies.
A place I have not been in for long- but a haunting familiarity threatens to cut me off.
If it won’t last forever- the swings will still remain.
And every morning I hope that it is you and me and some more open sky to keep flying.
Perhaps the quintessential delusion of people like us.
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