You must stand up. Show the inner self. Destroy the pieces that feed. Be the fear. Feel an exhale. Yielding excuses. Go In To.
Reach high to die. For space to release. Knowing the hand planted a stay. Charge a walk. Then run. Turn a cheek that waits. For it is the lines to refine.
Charter the tower that locks. Voyage tears to lace that holes a gather. Beckon the withered and trust it’s continue. Oh what we could become at the last 10 mark? Where 90 had once been lost.