Oh yeah, I'm still gonna ramble

while in my head

I'd thought in cages

then sliced through

so many ages

judging, paths we'd walked as rough

forgetting all the plans we'd thought

Discarding all the fun we'd had

as if it was something that's bad

but its not

and never was

it was just part of what we made up

so what?

should there be a problem with that?

imagination's run amuck?

i think not

for we must just stay 

outside that box

 

 

 

 

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