Your Mind Is The Reason The World Can Design
For only a minute, is one in its prime. Pushing static aside, becoming alive.
Let all things from the mind commit no crime. But the ones that many think, are stupid, and far from the sublime.
Sometimes the mine is perfect on time. But other times, one moment the words are blind.
Ideas seem to never coincide. Then out of the side. The world of words, becomes so divine. They twist and wind, like whispering vines.
Why would any one wish to leave this world behind. For minds scratch and carve and slowly grow hard. But are always ready to rip ideas a far. Bringing new things that could never be thought, but from the human mind.
Two lines, three lines, the chatter that strides. Bath the mind with one word at a time. In a small room, a big room, a room with no prime. Then count down from nine and release each word, one sentence at a time.
The gathering of minds, is beyond the picking of time. But death, will surely lead them, to subside.
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