Do we experience pain the way that the raindrops do?
We both must feel the pitter-patter, the sting, and the cold.
We both know what it is to dance in stormy weather;
We are but raindrops falling through time.
Do we experience weight the way that the stone in the sun must?
The both of us know what it means to be stubborn,
We both know how it feels to roast alone in the desert.
We are but stones, still in the sands of our lives.
Do we know what it means to soar as the bird does?
We both know how freedom tastes to hungry mouths,
And we both have been caged many times before.
We are but birds, alight on the winds of fate.
Are we as familiar with life as the dead are with death?
We both rot away, unless we are careful;
And some manage to find peace in both life and death.
We are but dead men, hoping for the best.

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