The people roll, as all in nature do.
Conflicting bark & bites create, a crack for one to slither through.
The path reminisced; Infinite chain of falses leading to true.
Your movements secretly always justified, unless a crack never
opened for you.

The mound, densely full, but satisfaction brought to few.
As grass can grow on top, and maximize the potential to you.
But notice now, how little you rest, as predators come & lay
their nest.
You fend off one but more come to fight; Prepare your chosen self,
to lose more sleep tonight.

Conflict is fierce; All are right in their ways.
It is only a matter of time, before one has to count his days.
The cloud is cut. Stability dissolves into a lifeless mut.
Every predator latches to what his fingers have found,
as a different crack opens for one to be drowned.
Feet remain solid, but your home is not there.
They were sucked through a crack, that is too high in the air.
The days one counts, tending the life of his grassy mound.
His eyes focused on all, the potential cracks in the ground.

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