He projects a slither of a man
A man longside a stream
Flowing unconsciously up until
A point at which it must fall
But it doesn't
Past and further must lay something
A niche, or a cliché
But why bother? Atop such
A silvery body through chromatic duality,
The sublime trap into which he must fall
But he doesn't
Does he misintetegrate so?
Does a choice conceal any truth?
He mustn't
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