You are so fond of your synopsis,
plotted with odd strokes of intent,
expecting others to decode symbols
and the coordinates of your history.
You love to splash in your philosophy
and you play the sage so naturally,
but I, for one, am certain
that your certainty
will be our death.
We have shared the same old burden,
cloistered behind routine and words,
sought shelter in rare company
dancing to every twist and turn
but too much baggage for two to handle,
we both wear it on our smiles,
too much to know a happy peak
and guess who tired of the climb?
?: Angsty, mediocre, both or neither?



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