It's okay, cos I don't want to. I don't have to if I don't.
My "can't" is now a deadened limb
replaced with purposeful prosthetic "won't".
How many hours, incapacitated, spent
despairing in the grip of malaise
now I'm gripped fimly by hand and
lead into this space
a veritable panoramic change.
These eyes are weak, they're severely deformed
from years of looking away
Now I see light
and the moth starts to dance
She's drunk on the brightness of day.
It's okay, cos I'm here now. I see the dark wood from the trees.
Time has stretched on forever
my shadows can no longer hide me.
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