It is quiet nights, reflections
Show the substance inside
That tiny bit of oomph that runs
The engine faster than our hearts
Can breathe
That swirls in our peripheral vision
Screaming look at me
Deep down we are needy
Children growing slowly on the
Soft carpet of comfort and familiarity
People, though they try
can give really bad advice
Nattering tongues afraid say
Let the poor thing scream
It's good for its lungs
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