I used to dream of gliding.
The slowly and soft descent
The view of everything alive
Expansive, innocent
Until the day you died up there.
Your body on a hill
Routine, they told you it would be,
And many wonder still
What might have been, or should have been.
But time is one, not dual —
So decades later, still we ask
Why fate’s so fucking
Cruel
Sad, but sadly very often true!
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