A Billion Burning Dreams

III. My sky is a schism. The kind of knife that has two sides. Sometimes it slices with such precision it segregates, takes away the things I need to feel.

Other times it minces life so finely I can only taste everything with misplaced clarity. My inner light can burn so bright it blinds my eyes or flicker so dim they squint and struggle to find anything worth saving in the dark.

IV. I am a sky. Sometimes I feel endless, parsed out into an incomplete forever.

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