Have a tired
soul,
Running
uncontrolled.
Have a tired
mind,
Has become
unkind.
Need a
cradle to sleep,
May be a
shoulder to weep.
Life’s
secret code,
That Utopian Abode.
Like a kite
that flies.
In the deep
blue skies.
Floating
unchained and uncontrolled.
Free of
Ambitions it holds.
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