It would be nice to hear the wind and love it.
wouldn't I deserve to love it all by now?
the whirling world of leaves and east coast breeze
and I still can't seem to get some sleep
I used to look out windows and the sky was blue
and only have time to write, to sleep well and long each night.
I look at windows
The sky is sky and I'm not me
or maybe I am.
Thinking back on it now,
I used to truly be a child
No one ever feels like a child
Incline, incline, incline.
A decline so abruptly interrupts this growing up,
that doesn't stop until some Wednesday when I feel like it does.
And wind I have tried so hard to know and love
blows in that day and I know it, it's old and I feel it
It doesn't surprise me
I stop waiting for incline
the wind is mine
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