Jets, flying with no pilot
through the vacant sky
no direction
just heading for a place
looking for a home
with no traps that come up and stab you blind
no landmines hidden at every step
no endless record, not letting you forget
the lashings the mind trips the loveless times
Taking over the controls
steer it back off course
to places with no identity
no photos and no clothes
an endless fashion show
a wardrobe from which to choose
my life, my dreams, my goals.
A spacious machine to fill with love
friends once faces along the road
souls that change us grow us
from hills we grow mountains
waterfalls from fountains
new flesh to mend the scars of old.
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