the semblance of square, still waters
conceals the tantrum of a flood
behind these many steps & falters
walking a shaky, yellow line
can't find any straighter, wholsome road
can't find anyone that's fine
i steal inside a stranger's soul
to see the colour of another's blood —
to see if strangers are whole
broken, are you also broken?
or are you whole, not itching to implode
or fade away before you're broken?
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