Conscious thought that drifts, drip dripping
wet like rain, yet solid, oh so solid like ice
and it slams into you, much like the fist of the bully from school
striking over and over, for no reason other than to dominate,
and yet it propels you forward, until you're soaring with thought,
and oh so eager to begin and express and realize
just what you've always wanted to realize
just what you've always desired to create, and believe
and destroy.
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