beneath a ceiling I can
makebelieve holds stars,
and search the ether
for an answer to the
riddles in my heart.
Want to blueprint
colossal castles in studio
backlot of my brain,
want to drink of
Scotland's finest
just to strip layers
off the pain,
and be a man,
and be a hero,
as room's air sweeps cobwebs
from my skin.
Want to play the game
and fight the rules
and, at last, I want to win.
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