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Enclosed Bathroom
Constricting the walls,
Our minds close them up.
Not the universe at all,
But self contained luck.
The tiles of existence,
Pattern the very fabric,
Of all the intentions
And being but a trick.
The feeling of falling
Repeats and repeats.
Motionless appaulling.
Nothing but retreats.
Obey is the order,
Selfish by the hour.
We are ourselves wardens.
But who has all the power?
