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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #1973760
things no longer have an affect when you cease to care about them

         High Road
Low Threshold

I rise up above it
The bustle & buildings down there
It probably means something
But I no longer care

Rather than fight
I choose flight
Hovering above it all
I disbelieve the gravity
of circumstance,
No chance to fall
Nor fall back in love with
Community, its people or town

You might think me cold
Nah, just aloof, aloft
and won't let all that drag me down
Having lost perhaps touch
I gain a grander view
and no longer feel the weight
of explaining myself to you

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