Where is the flight
Colouring my spirited eyes
Penchant for flying kites
Embodied all glory to names
To a tug, blindness seeks
Vision of skies
In an erratic turn
It tether string to my love
Another kite hissing, do
War for the kingdom of skies
Either the many cut, or
The many kingdom won
Some gulping
Some drooling my saliva down
Those golden days gone, I
Stick my tongue dried
Barren of all support
Anchor my present, arid to skies!
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