Perfectly different

Perfectly different

and in the sparks of a flaming fluid

I’d see myself

just as a kilned pot

but with cracks for perfection

Different.

Flawed. Perfect.

BENIGN

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I don’t walk alone

I don’t usually walk alone

But I know the beauty of solitary saunters

And I know how sweet it is to hum tunes my brain credits itself for

so I walk with my music

and my problems too

Chanting them as if to entertain the whizzing winds

Singing them as if the melodies would shoo them away,

With the incessant brrrr!s they leave on my ears

Chorusing them to the birds

Just as if their responses are solutions

Chirp! Chirp! they quip, and I sing along

There’s a solution to my troubles,

The winds and birds know,

I don’t walk alone.

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I don’t walk alone.