from the archives: some time in seventh grade

no one quite knows what it’s like to be free
but the land where no one ever says no
over land, over rough, and by the sea
here we are snowed in, but there there’s no snow

everyone there knows what it’s like to save
but even we cannot live forever
steadily moving from cradle to grave
death is not something that happens never

like a wolf, it comes for everyone
change of subject, bang! Clouds are on fire!
the clouds’ brilliance replaces the sun!
the horses’ hooves are stuck in the more!

the land where no one ever says no is’p
weird; chickens are burning to a fried crisp.

Seventh grade wasn’t a good time for me creatively…

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