Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

The reality of a dreamlike hysteria

I get so far before I am pulled back
Into the wispy delirium that fogs up my eyes.
Once, I could see clearly, I now see ghosts
That clog me of regret.
I could have this, I could have that,
But I am stuck in a groove and cannot be rescued.
I run but get nowhere, and wish for wings
So I can fly like a beautiful bird and
Put distance between me and this paranoia.
Instead, I had lead shoes and I go nowhere fast.
I miss the sunlight kissing my eyes awake,
I've been in the dark too long and without a flashlight.


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The reality of a dreamlike hysteria

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