A packed harbor,
The sky ever changing,
Witnessing all of our labour,
The light ever so far away,
Our hope hanging on a street lamp,
Our minds become the cars,
Which begin to race down the long ramp,
The days long,
Our lives short,
The Gate always open,
Reconciling our fixation to abort,
Our lives filled with many colors,
None more stronger than a smile,
Which changes any Raven,
Into a beautiful flooring tile.
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